Days 2-3: Sickness

Once we were done traveling, we had thought the worst was over. We were wrong.

On the ferry, I had noticed that Eleanor was starting to feel warm. I told myself it was just from traveling, and she would be fine in the morning. But she wasn't. She definitely had a fever and was miserable.

The night we arrived, the groom (Keith's cousin Gene) and his mother stopped by to say hello and help us get settled. Wonderful people they are, they brought us food and potable water. Gene, who also happens to be an ER doctor in New York City, mentioned that he was surfing at 7am the next morning with his friends, and anyone would be welcome to join him.

Well, Eleanor woke up at 5.30am, crying and feeling like she was on fire. We groggily got up and did the best we could to appease her, but she was clearly very unhappy.

And we were also unhappy. How could she be sick already? And how could we forget to bring a thermometer and children's Tylenol?!? We were so focused on travel-specific items like getting her Hep A shot, and filling a prescription for diarrhea medication (just in case!), and bringing plenty of sunscreen, band-aids and Neosporin .... we completely forgot to be prepared for the usual baby illnesses. I felt so worried and like a horrible mother, because I wasn't prepared.

After worrying myself into a serious funk, Karen and I walked to where Gene was staying, just one house further down the beach. The house looked completely quiet, but we figured someone had to be up. Right?

Finally, on a bench behind the house, facing the infinity pool and the ocean (which I barely even saw), we found Gene's two surfing buddies. Who are also ER doctors with him. I couldn't be bothered to learn their names or introduce myself before launching into "My daughter is sick and I don't know what to do!" I even found myself getting choked up as I talked. As I tried to hold back the tears, I thought about how embarrassed I was to be this crazy stranger-lady who is having a meltdown in Costa Rica, and they just want to go surfing. It only got worse when their medical advice was to give Eleanor baby Tylenol, keep her hydrated, and keep an eye on her ... and I had to admit I was also a bad, unprepared mother because I didn't bring any baby Tylenol.

By this time, Gene had shown up so he offered to run over to his sister Teresa's place. Teresa has two young daughters and is also the most organized, efficient person in the world, so there was no doubt that she would have a thermometer and medicine that we could borrow. I thanked him profusely and retreated back to our house, to hold Eleanor and apologize again for being such a terrible mother. I'm sure the doctors sighed with relief, and hopefully went surfing.

As promised, Gene delivered the medical necessities, courtesy of Teresa. Once we had the thermometer and the Tylenol, I calmed down a bit. We spent most of the day relaxing in the bedroom or swinging in the hammock. We briefly attended the rehearsal dinner that night, but there was too much heat and noise and people, so we left before dinner was even served, and long before the party really got started.

By the next morning (Friday), Eleanor's fever was waning. After much discussion and debate, more logical minds prevailed and we all agreed that there was no way she could have gotten sick in Costa Rica, since she was already feeling warm within a few hours of our arrival. Maybe she could have gotten something on the plane? But even that would mean an incubation period of less than a day between getting infected and showing symptoms. So was the most likely explanation that she was actually sick before we even left Cleveland, and it was just poor, dumb luck that she got sick on our trip? Somehow, that seemed like the most far-fetched yet logical explanation.

So by mid-Friday morning, I could stop worrying so much about Eleanor and concentrate on me, because I felt horrible. Jeremy had brought back some champagne from the rehearsal dinner the night before, and I decided to have a mimosa. There'd been some rumblings in my stomach area during the night and early morning that I had tried to ignore, but somehow the mimosa brought these minor cramps to full force. I went to the bathroom and puked up everything I had eaten so far that day.

Instead of laying in bed as Eleanor's mattress, I laid in bed of my own accord. Keith made Costa Rican style "gallo pintos" for lunch—black beans and rice. I had really been looking forward to trying it when he started soaking the beans the night before, but at this point I knew it was not a good idea. I took a few antacids that were helpfully included in the wedding bags and curled into a ball on the couch. Was it something I ate? Did I catch a bug on the plane? Had all of my worrying from the previous day actually turned into physical illness? I didn't know what I had; I just knew I was tired of feeling like crap and wanted to actually start my vacation!

After that, I risked eating a few tortillas chips because they were the only things that didn't make me want to vomit as soon as I looked at them. Just kidding! I still threw them up a bit later.

By the evening, I was still feeling shaky and weak, but not as vomitous. Cousin Teresa and her husband Nic had arranged for a chef to prepare a meal at their rented villa, and close family was invited to eat and spend time together. So I did manage to eat that meal and keep it down. I hoped that meant that the sickness was passing.

I went to bed that night feeling sick and incredibly irritated. We had made it all the way to Costa Rica, we were only there for 6 days (not counting travel) .... and I had spent the first two days in bed. Time was running out for the vacation of my dreams!

Day 1: Travel

Before the trip, both Keith and I had been pretty anxious about all the travel. First hurdle: two legs of a plane trip from Cleveland to Houston, and Houston to San Jose, Costa Rica. Each leg was about 3-4 hours, luckily we were meeting up with Keith's parents, sister, and brother-in-law in Houston for the flight to San Jose. We told ourselves that we just needed to make it through the first leg, and then we would have reinforcements.

After the flights, all six of us hopped into a large van. We drove for about two hours, then waited an hour for the ferry. The ferry ride (pictured) took another hour, and then we had about another 2-hour drive once we got off the ferry. The last couple of hours in the van, in particular, took a lot longer then we had anticipated. The "roads" were not in good shape. "Pothole" doesn't even begin to describe the massive craters our driver gingerly edged around and through—particularly once the road changed from paved to dirt. It was at the end of the rainy season, and so my guess is that there's not a whole lot of road maintenance done during the rainy season. So these roads were probably at their worst, all year. Lucky us! The final 11km (just under 7 miles) took an hour. We were so ready to be done.

But really, the travel itself isn't what made us so nervous. We figured, one way or the other, we would reach our destination. We were concerned about how Eleanor would do, particularly in the confined space of the airplane. How would she handle not being able to run around and play?

She was amazing. She was a much better traveler than I am, all smiles and excitement. We ran her around the Cleveland airport as much as possible before boarding the first plane, but that was about the only time we could do that all day. For our layover in Houston, our second flight was already starting to board when we got off the first one so we went to the bathroom and straight back onto the plane. In San Jose, we literally walked out of the airport and straight over to the van. On the ferry she could move around some, since we got out of the van and sat on benches on an upper deck. But there was still plenty of trouble for her to get into, so we had to keep a close eye on her. For her, the close confinement of the car seat (as opposed to the airplane, where at least she's sitting in someone's lap) was the worst. But even then, she wasn't bad.

As soon as we boarded the airplane, I felt like all the passengers' eyes were on us, willing us NOT to sit near them, so they wouldn't have to endure a screaming baby. When we did find our seats, Eleanor's first order of business was to make friends with everyone around us. She smiled, she waved, she played peek-a-boo behind the seats. She did her very best to put everyone in a good mood, so that once she started screaming on the flight, they didn't get annoyed quite as fast.

But the screaming never started. She had a few fussy moments, but we either managed to distract her with a different book or two, or she passed out. And it was the same on the second flight. She also spent some time with Grandma and Grandpa, looking out their window and seeing all the toys and books they had brought to keep her entertained.

Both on the way there and on the way back, she traveled exceptionally well. She was born to travel! We were so proud and relieved.

After getting up at 3:30am to get to the airport, we finally rolled into our rented house around 7pm, I think. I did lose track of time a bit, especially once the sun went down. But no matter: we had been traveling for a long time and were very happy to be done. The worst is over with! We congratulated ourselves. Now we can enjoy our vacation!

We're Back!

Hola!

We are back safely from Costa Rica, and very glad to be home. Everything is, of course, a bit out of sorts. We're washing piles of dirty, sandy laundry and trying to figure out where all this STUFF that came from the suitcases normally resides.

And our usual schedule is nonexistent. Before the trip, Eleanor had pretty much made the transition from one nap a day to two. During the trip, she took at least two naps a day. And now .... who knows? As you can guess, maintaining the level of excitement you see in the picture is hard work, and she was that excited about a lot of things. She didn't sleep great our first night back, but last night she conked out. She was in bed between 7.30-8pm, which is right on schedule. The weird part is that she's still asleep, and it's nearly 10 o'clock the next morning. This is BY FAR a record for Eleanor. I'm fast approaching the point where I unglue my ear from the baby monitor and just go in the room and watch her sleep, making sure she's still breathing and okay. She's really weirding me out.

Anyway: more about the trip coming soon!

Preparing to Fly the Coop

I don't know if I've mentioned it much here or not, but we're going on vacation. Keith's cousin is getting married in Costa Rica, and we're all going! By the time you read this, we will probably be on the plane, headed South to warm weather and gorgeous sunshine.

We haven't traveled outside the country for a few years, and definitely not since Eleanor was born. The furthest we've traveled with Eleanor is weekend trips to Cincinnati. So we are a bit apprehensive about what traveling for an entire day with a 15-month-old will be like. It will involve getting up around 3 o'clock in the morning, two legs of airplane journey—each lasting about 3-4 hours, followed by a shuttle van trip from the airport to the small town where we'll be staying, which will also be at least 3-4 hours.

I love traveling. But preparing for this trip has been so different. One of my favorite parts of traveling is all of the planning that goes on beforehand. Learning about the countries, its customs, places to visit, makes the trip more real and exciting.

This time, I did no research at all. We were lucky in that the bride and groom took care of so many arrangements for us. Obviously, they had chosen a location for the wedding so our final destination was set. Plus, they gave us information about how to get there, and where to stay once we're there. All we had to do was send a few emails and our reservations were made.

Typically, I would also like to make plans for day trips to visit areas outside of the perimeter of our housing. But I've been stressed out lately. Learning how to be a parent (or trying to be a good parent, at least) is hard work. Plus changing jobs and the other bumps and hiccups of daily life makes me loathe to create additional plans and work once we're on vacation. I just want to be On Vacation. Maybe once we're there I'll be tempted by a trip to the jungle or surfing lessons, but right now, all I want is to hang out with Eleanor and Keith and the extended family. I want to sit in the sun and read for hours at a time. I want to have long conversations over bottles of wine and catch up with everyone. I want to nap in a hammock. I don't want extracurricular activities and, therefore, have planned none.

This trip is also different because, well, there's Eleanor. We had no idea what to pack. I have this image of us as pack mules trudging through the airport, slowly bending under our ridiculous loads of baggage, toys, books, diapers, and baby food until we collapse under the weight.

The reality, so far, seems much more reasonable. We think we have most of the items that we'll need, and are still only planning on 2 small carry-on bags, plus two larger checked suitcases. (It helps that we're going to a tropical locale!) I am fully aware that, after the trip, I will probably write a post entitled "These Are All The Things I Failed to Take Into Consideration Before the Trip." There will be a learning curve. But hopefully we can at least make it through the airports and onto our final destination without collapsing beneath the weight of our most-necessary possessions.

After all this complaining, let me be clear: I'm very excited about this trip! Our first family vacation—hopefully the first of many. I know that traveling with a child is going to be much more complicated. But I am also looking forward to seeing her eyes as she drinks in all of the new experiences. We're going to have a great time, and a lot of good memories.

Race Results

Well, it's over. And I finished! Let's start with that.

I finished, but it wasn't pretty. I ran with my mother-in-law, Karen, for the first couple miles. But they were both under 10 minutes per mile and I knew I wouldn't be able to maintain that pace, so I bid her farewell and slowed down.

Like with my 12-mile training run, the first six miles were pretty good. I sped up one mile, slowed down the next, but I averaged just over 10 minutes / mile, because at the six-mile mark my watch said 61 minutes and change.

Unfortunately, I had 7.1 more miles to go. I don't know exactly what happened. All throughout my training, I kept wondering if I was doing enough—putting in enough miles—to be truly prepared for the race. In the end, I don't think I was prepared. From mile 8 onward, I kept slowing down. It was just as much of an effort to do an 11-minute mile as it had been to go at a 10:15 pace a few miles back. Everything started to ache, and then my stomach cramped up again around mile 10.

But, as I said, I finished. Two years ago, I ran my first half-marathon in 2 hours and 13 minutes. Best-case scenario for this race was to be near to that time. Second best would be to finish in under 2:20. Third best would be to at least finish in under 2:30. So I did manage that part—I finished in 2:25, averaging just over 11-minutes per mile.

I think I'm glad I did it. I know that I couldn't have done any more; I felt awful after the race was over. Dizzy and ready to throw up. I was completely out of commission for several hours, and just curled up in a ball on the couch and fell asleep until I felt a little better.

So, overall, no regrets. I didn't know how it would go, but it was important for me prove to myself that I could do it again. I'm glad I set that goal, I enjoyed doing the best I could with the training, and I did finish the half-marathon.

However, in the future, if I'm not sure how much time I can devote to training, I think I'll stick to 5ks and 10ks. My opinion now is that you can kinda "fake" a 5k or 10k and muddle through, but you can't fake a half-marathon. My body wasn't fully prepared, and it showed.

Now we're headed off to Costa Rica. I'm ready for a break! I'm not packing my running shoes; if I want to get in some exercise, I'll swim in the gorgeous, warm ocean waters.

But once we get back, there's a 10k Thanksgiving Day Race in Cincinnati. I have been doing a lot of speedwork and tempo runs during my half-marathon training. Currently, my 10k PR is a 10:21 min/mile pace from the Flying Pig 10k in 2007. If I finished a half-marathon at an 11:04 pace, maybe I can set a new 10k PR in a few weeks....

Presenting the Sushi Chef

I am proud to introduce Eleanor, Sushi Chef Extraordinaire!

I really wanted to sew Eleanor's Halloween costume this year. I have many fond memories of costumes that my mom sewed for me and my sisters over the years. It was a million times better than getting a store-bought costume and looking like everyone else (except for those few middle school years, when all I wanted was to be exactly like everyone else). We would go to the fabric store and look through the pattern books to find the perfect costume. Then I could pick whatever colors and fabrics my little heart desired. After we got home, I watched the costume turn from weird, unreadable patterns and bolts of fabric into the finished product, just as I'd imagined it, through my mother's skillful hands.

I've always wished to be better at reading patterns and sewing, and now I want Eleanor to have the same wonderful, personal experience I had with my mother. So I picked out a chef pattern and roped my mom into being my sewing mentor. One Saturday my Mom, Eleanor, and I all went to the fabric store and chose various fabrics, notions, accessories for the costume. The best part was picking out a fun pattern for the pants. Obviously, it would be something food related. But what?

As soon as I saw the sushi pattern, I fell in love. We got orange accents for the jacket to match the splashes of orange on the pants, and stuck with the traditional white jacket and black buttons, otherwise.

I have to confess: My mother did most of the sewing. We worked together for an entire day, cutting and sewing. She was teaching me a lot about reading patterns and using the sewing machine, but we just ran out of time. We had only finished the pants and part of the collar before we had to quit for the day. She finished all the rest of the sewing, and I just added the black buttons on the jacket and ironed the collar.

Hopefully next year I can do more of the work, and my mom can be more of a supervisor. I was halfway tempted to go to the fabric store today and see if I could get a pattern on super-duper post-Halloween sale. But then I remembered that, next Halloween, Eleanor will be over 2 years old. Maybe by that point she'll have an opinion on her costume!

Pumpkins!!

We finally got around to buying a pumpkin this past weekend. If it gets carved, it will happen on Friday night .... but I don't think anyone here is holding her breath.

Really, for Keith and me, it was about the experience of going to the farmer's market to pick out a pumpkin and enjoy a beautiful fall day. We really wanted to go back to the same place we had gone last year: Szalay's Sweet Corn Farm in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. The farm sits immediately next to the Towpath Trail, so last year we wandered around the market, bought a pumpkin and a few other fresh produce items and baked goods, and wandered up the trail a bit. It had felt like a moment out of time, with nothing to worry about . We just enjoyed the fall weather, each other's company, and counted our blessings.

We definitely wanted to go back there. And this year, Eleanor was going to be so much more excited! Last year, we tried taking a picture of her with the pumpkins and she started crying. But this year, pumpkins are her very favorite thing. A neighbor a few doors down decided to grow a few pumpkins in her front flower garden, and Eleanor is constantly heading in that direction on walks. She likes to pat the pumpkins, marveling at their size and thickness. (At least, I assume that's what she's doing.)

And, on Sunday, she did not disappoint. That expression in the photograph? That's the expression of excitement and wonder that she wore most of the day, combined with a triumphant laugh as she looked around at Keith, me, and anyone else passing by. She would stare at all of us, as if challenging us to admit that THIS is the best life can be. Did anyone know it could be so good?!?

I was afraid that we would be at the farm for hours, because it appeared that she just might need to touch every single pumpkin on display. Eventually, though, we did purchase one large pumpkin for potential carving, a small pumpkin and gourd perfectly-sized for grasping baby hands, and some pretzel bread that was delicious. We dropped everything off at the car and headed over to the Towpath for a short walk.

In this, as in everything else, Eleanor was absolutely delighted. Look at all the people! And the leaves! And the puppies!! She was like the ambassador of the trail; as runners or walkers approached, she would plant herself in the middle of the trail and wait for them to notice her. Once they did, she would smile and pretend to be shy, but then wave enthusiastically. She loved the crunch of the dry leaves under her feet, and spent many moments stopping in place on them.

I have always enjoyed the Fall, and Halloween. But they have never been this exciting or filled with wonder before. Eleanor just makes everything better!

100% Chance of Being Wrong

For a while, my running was sporadic. First I was sick, and then it poured rain for a week straight. Not just drizzled, but miserable, cold, relentless downpours.

I decided I really needed to get back into the swing of things, and recommitted to doing all of my workouts in the final weeks before the half-marathon. Immediately after deciding that, I checked the weather forecast on Wednesday evening to see what I needed to wear for my Friday morning run. It was going to be in the 30s and was going to rain. Not just maybe. Weather.com was boldly proclaiming that the chance of rain was 100%. I had never seen such a thing before!

I went to bed depressed. I had just promised myself to be faithful and really stick to the schedule, and I was going to skip my workout. Because there was no WAY I was getting out of bed at 5:00am when it was freezing cold AND raining. I may be crazy, but I'm not that crazy.

Keith, wonderful, supportive guy that he is, talked me down from the ledge. He reasonably pointed out that I just shouldn't worry about it because it was out of my hands. Get ready to run in the morning, assume I would run in the morning, and then reassess when my alarm went off.

The next morning, I prepared to hit snooze and snuggle down into bed, listening to the rain pattering on the windows. Instead, I heard nothing. So I dragged myself out of bed and took Beckett for our run. It was a fantastic run, and it didn't rain the entire time we were out there.

Why am I thinking to tell you this now? Because I just checked the forecast for my run tomorrow morning, and Weather.com again predicts 100% chance of rain during the 5 o'clock and 6 o'clock hours of the morning.

But this time, I'm not scared. The race is this coming Sunday, so I'm extra motivated to get in my last few runs. And I only have to do 4x400s, so it's a quick run. Even if I hear rain pounding against the windows and overrunning the gutters, I'm heading out for my run. I think.

And if the rain deters me, well, at least the forecast was right for once!

Put this in the "Con" Column

There's a lot of reasons why I like being a professor. (Ha! I'm a professor.) I like the hours. I enjoy the interaction with my students, and watching them improve over the course of the semester. I enjoy talking and thinking about writing and literature.

But I've discovered a large downside. It is not a good idea for me to have the kind of job where I work at home. This past weekend, I made myself completely stressed out about work. I wasn't stressed about anything at home—only about grading essays and writing up lesson plans. So instead of having a relaxing, enjoyable weekend, I continually felt the knot in my chest tightening as hours slipped by and my work to-do list remained undone.

Eleanor—bless her fabulous little heart!—actually slept in on Sunday until almost 9:30. This should have been an occasion worthy of parades and celebration. Instead, I laid in bed from 8 o'clock onward, refusing to get up because I was afraid that creaking floorboards outside her door would wake her. But I didn't fall back asleep; I just spent an hour and a half winding myself into a tight little ball of nerves, thinking about how if I had gotten up for my run at 7 o'clock, like I meant to, I could be done and ready to start our day's activities.

Instead, I didn't really leave for my run until 10ish, and we didn't head out to buy pumpkins until noon. By the time we got back, we had to make dinner and get Eleanor to bed. That is how I ended up finally getting to work about 10:00pm, and staying up until 5 o'clock Monday morning to slog through everything I needed to have done for this week.

I know that spending the entire weekend making myself anxious about work was not helpful. I would like to believe that it was a one-off, because I had so much to prepare for the time we'll be on vacation and immediately after coming back. But part of me thinks that, if it weren't that, it would be something else. Maybe, now that I know what classes I'll be teaching next semester, I can start worrying about getting those syllabi and assignments figured out.

It makes me long for a job that only exists while I'm at the office. And even if my office job was stressful (and it was), it all ended when I walked out the door at the end of the day. Now, I am constantly bombarded by the need for lesson plans, grading, and creating quizzes and essay questions.

I'm not very good at drawing boundaries and knowing when to quit. Just stop thinking about the job and relax. Because if I had just stopped worrying about work and enjoyed the weekend until 10 o'clock Sunday evening, the same amount of work would have gotten done, but I would have been a lot happier.

Maybe it gets easier with experience? Or, at the very least, you end up with a stack of lesson plans to fall back on.

About that Long Run

As I've mentioned before, I've been training for the Inland Trail Half-Marathon. My training has been sketchy, at best. I kept telling myself to do the best I can, to get in as many runs as I can, and just see what happens. I figured that my 12-mile training run would let me know whether I'm ready or not.

That training run took place this past weekend, and it was a nightmare.

The first six miles went fine. I was feeling good, on pace, happy about my half-marathon prospects. But, alas, the half-marathon is much longer than six miles. Keith and I had gone out to the Inland Trail itself, and ran straight out and back to the car to re-familiarize ourselves with the course. So at six miles, I turned around and headed back in. I walked for a few minutes, eating jelly beans and drinking water.

This part is important. If you're a runner, you might assume I had the Sport Beans, which are "specially formulated with sports performance in mind. Sport Beans provide a source of easily digestible carbohydrate for fuel, the electrolytes sodium and potassium for proper fluid balance, and B1, B2, B3, and C vitamins for energy metabolism and good health."

That would be a sensible guess. But unfortunately, we'd run out of time the day before to purchase either Sport Beans or my preferred Shot Bloks (cran razz is my favorite). So I decided to wing it, and just use normal jelly beans. How different can it be?

In summary, I was doubled over by mile 9 and walked most of miles 10-12. I completely imploded. Pretty much my worst-case scenario, especially when hoping that the 12-mile run would prove to myself that I was ready for the half.

So, now what? In the end, I'm still planning on signing up for the half. I know that I've done enough training that I should be able to go the distance. And if I didn't sign up, I would always wonder whether I could have done it or not. After weeks of time and effort, I would rather try and fail than not try at all.

To get myself in the right frame of mind, I'm placing all of the blame for my horrible run this past weekend squarely on the jelly beans. I'm assuming that my training is fantastic, I'm completely up to the task, and if I don't eat jelly beans the day of, I'll be fine.

Chill Out

I think the universe is telling me to chill out. In the past week, I have heard several Bob Marley songs—at least 4, I think?—on different radio stations. It seems like every time I get in the car or listen to Woxy, Bob is there. And Dooce even posted about the therapeutic effects of Bob Marley just the other day! Such synchronicity.

I have been thinking about and dealing with anxiety a lot lately. I absolutely agree with the universe that I need to chill out more. I let every little thing get to me, and I'm always trying to do too much in too little time. I can't ever tune out the To Do List and just have a good time.

But I need a bit more guidance, cosmos. HOW do I chill out?!? How do I stop letting the anxiety rule my life? Is the key really just to listen to Bob Marley?

I'm off to Lala for some Bob Marley relaxation, day one .... if you notice my posts become more rambling and relaxed, you'll know why!

Photo credit: Wikipedia.org

Travel Budgeting

Just FYI ... in case anyone who reads this lives in the U.S. and is "covered" by health insurance and thinking of a trip to Costa Rica ..... remember to budget $300 per adult for vaccinations such as Hep A that your insurance probably won't cover.

Substitute Teaching

I have had my first experience substitute teaching, and it was ... challenging. I felt like the class make-up was similar to my own—there's the class clown, the ones who don't really think they need to be there, and the majority of the class is ready to listen and learn. And yet ... just 3 or 4 disruptive students is all it takes to ruin a class, I've learned.

No matter that discipline isn't an issue in my class. This wasn't my class, and the minority was determined not to listen to me. One student kept texting on his cell phone, two others wouldn't stop talking, another kept in his headphones so he could listen to his MP3 player (loud enough that I could hear it) through the entire lecture. I had to ask one student to close out of Facebook during an in-class, graded essay. Twice.

I treated them as if they were my class in that I didn't accept any of that crap. In retrospect, it might have been easier if I had left alone the ones who were not disrupting the class, but only their own education. Instead, I put my foot down about all non-class activities and took a stand.

The first two days did not go very well. Lots of time wasted on arguing with recalcitrant students and not nearly enough time actually spent on lessons. The night before the third class, my stomach was tied in knots. Should I keep up my strict policy? Should I back down and just try to make it through the last two classes? What if the regular professor never came back from jury duty?!?

After talking it over with some other professors and family, I decided to stick to my guns. I would keep the same policies, but with definitive repercussions for breaking any rules. The first instance would get a warning and point deduction. The second instance, a student would be asked to leave class (or escorted out by Public Safety, if necessary). My goal was to spend as little time on discipline as possible, and focus on actually teaching.

I tossed and turned all night. The next morning, when I wrote the old rules/new consequences on the board before class started, my hands were shaking a bit. I figured it would all turn out fine .... or go terribly wrong. And I had absolutely no idea which. I turned from writing on the board and began the lesson a few minutes later without ever discussing what I had written.

And it was fine. The last two days, it felt like I was in charge of the class. We did focus on the lesson and not on arguments about cell phones and headphones.

I still don't know if I made the right decisions the entire time. Maybe I should have been more lax from the beginning and only focused on the students who wanted to learn, disciplining just when the entire class was disrupted .... I'm sure there's many things, both small and large, that I could have done differently. But in the end, I think it turned out to be a good experience.

Wednesday night, after my in-class success, I got an email from the regular professor, urging me to call his cell phone ASAP. My heart sank. Was he on a jury and wouldn't be coming back until Thanksgiving?!? I swallowed hard and dialed.

Actually, he was just calling to say that he had been released early from jury duty, and could take the Thursday class if I wanted him to. I smiled and declined his offer; I wanted to finish out the week, as intended. I was happy, however, to inform his class at the end of Thursday's class that he would be back next week, so this class was my last with them. I wished them all well, and suggested that I might see a few of them in my own class next semester.

I think that could be the most telling measure of my success— if any of those students choose to sign up for my class next semester, then I think I will have been truly successful in my substitute teaching. But even if they don't, I made it through with my dignity (mostly) intact. That is also a measure of success, in my book!

A Survival Week

I'm so happy to be on the other side of last week. It was a rough week for three reasons:
1) We had been in Cincinnati over the previous weekend. It was a wonderful trip and we saw lots of great family and friends (like you, Jan!;) ... but we didn't get home until 11 o'clock Sunday night. There's certain things I need to get done over the weekend to make the week's tasks seem bearable. By Monday, I like to have major housecleaning, meal planning, and grocery shopping off the list. Not usually hard to accomplish over the weekend, but if it's not done when we're both home, we're living in a filthy mess and scrounging for food the rest of the week. Plus, I wasn't prepared for classes yet so I stayed up until 1 o'clock to do lesson plans.

2) Part of the reason I wasn't ready for the week's classes is because I was substitute teaching for a co-worker who got called for jury duty. It's the same class as mine, but four days a week instead of three, with shorter class periods. So although we would be covering much of the same material, it needed to be reworked a bit to fit their schedule. Plus, it was a very .... eye-opening experience. But more about that later. In the big scheme of things, doubling my teaching time meant that I had even less time to get things done at home.

3) Keith left straight from work on Thursday afternoon to run the Bourbon Chase relay race on Friday and Saturday. Originally, we were all going to go and Eleanor and I were going to cheer Keith, Karen, and the rest of the team on. But once I started teaching, taking a day off wasn't an option. Instead, I was home alone and IN CHARGE. It was very frightening.

But we all made it through in one piece. I thought about making this a post about what it felt like to be a single mom for a day, but quickly realized that would be completely wrong and inappropriate. I still have no idea what it would be like to be the sole breadwinner, parent, role model, cook, cleaner, and boo-boo kisser. I do feel certain that I wouldn't be able to handle it. When I was home by myself, I knew I only needed to make it a few days. Eleanor and I even went over to my parents' house on Saturday and spent the night, so my time as sole responsible person was cut in half. And my friend Emily came over Thursday and Friday nights, so I didn't have to entertain myself much either. I only worked a few hours on Thursday and Friday .... because I don't need a full-time job, thanks to Keith.

I did what I needed to, to get through last week. But I knew that I could push off anything not urgent, because Keith would be back and this week would be less hectic. I shudder—nay, curl into a ball and weep—at the thought of being responsible for all of it, all the time. I get so caught up in worrying about all the things I want to get done, and how I could be doing things better, that I don't think I give much credit where credit is due. I have a fantastic support system, from Keith to my family (blood relatives and in-laws), to in-person and virtual friends. Although the thought of being in charge of EVERYTHING all by myself is frightening, in a way it's also comforting because I know that will never happen. I have you, and that means a lot!

A Great TV Experiment of a Different Sort

When I was pregnant, I sat Keith down for a serious talk. I had been doing massive amounts of reading to prepare for Being a Parent (as all pregnant women due, even though it's mostly a futile effort), and I had concluded that our child should not be exposed to TV before age 2.

The American Association of Pediatrics had determined that there may be links between watching too much TV at too young of an age and attention deficit issues .... or that TV under the age of 2 could just generally stunt brain development. Although there weren't a ton of studies, just the suggestion was enough to make me decree that our baby would not watch TV until after age 2.

Alright "exposed" might be a bit too strong. That's not to say that she's never seen the TV. It just means that, generally, we turn off the TV when she's around, and we definitely don't spend any time with Baby Einstein videos or Elmo.

What I've been surprised about lately is that I don't feel like I've come across many other parents who share that point of view. I didn't think it was that far out of the norm. Now do I need to be concerned that, when she starts preschool, she will be socially behind because she won't get toddler pop culture references like Elmo and Guy Smile, etc.?

A Day at the Farm, Really

After our initial adventure, the day became much more pedestrian, and eminently more enjoyable. We took the horse-drawn wagon ride to the far reaches of the park, where Eleanor pet sheep and pigs. We then walked from the Well Bred Shed over to the corn maze behind the greenhouse. I love corn mazes, and I was excited to see what Eleanor thought of one.

To be honest, she didn't think about it much. We were at this beautiful place, with so many new and interesting things to see. What did she like the best?

The rocks in the middle of the road. In the picture above, we were on the way to the corn maze. It took us about 20 minutes to walk 100 yards because we had to stop several times as Eleanor exclaimed over rocks. More rocks! What wonderful rocks! She sat in the dirt and picked up and put down rocks. She carried rocks in her little fists, and debated when coming upon new rocks. Which to keep? Which to put down? Could she possibly carry them all?!?

By the time we finally got to the corn maze, Eleanor was fussy and ready for her afternoon nap. We made a beeline for the center of the maze and came out again in short order. Eleanor was passing out in my arms.

The day may not have gone as I had expected. But we had a great time. I was so glad for an opportunity to get out of the house, away from the regular chores, and just enjoy spending time outside with Eleanor and Karen. Karen, when are you coming back?!?

A Day at the Farm

A few weeks ago, my mother-in-law, Karen, came up for a visit. One of the many reasons I enjoy Karen's mid-week visits is that it makes me focus less on my to-do list and take a day out. If Karen hadn't been visiting, I'm sure the day would have been filled with laundry, grocery shopping, and cleaning. Instead, Karen, Eleanor, and I spent the day at Lake Farmpark.

It was a gorgeous, sunny, crisp Fall day. I had never been to Lake Farmpark, but my friend Heidi had raved about how wonderful it is and how much her kids love it, so I was eager to visit. We packed a picnic lunch and headed off around lunchtime.

The trip there took a bit longer than I had expected, so by the time we had arrived, Eleanor had already eaten as much of her lunch as was possible from within a car seat. Karen and I, however, were still hungry; we decided to eat lunch first and then really spend time at the different activities.

I could see a picnic pavilion from the parking lot, but it was surrounded by fences. I surmised that we would have to go in and pay first, and then be able to access the picnic area. As we approached the welcome center, we saw a group of elementary school kids getting onto buses at the end of their trip. They pointed to the adorable baby, who smiled and waved back. They were cute and all, but I was secretly glad they were leaving so we wouldn't be bumping into a large clump of children everywhere we turned.

We went to the counter to pay. Eleanor, as usual, had declined to actually ride in the stroller. Instead, I was holding her and the cooler had taken the place of honor in the stroller seat. The woman working the cash register peered over the counter and said, "You're not taking food into the park, are you?"

"Of course not," I immediately replied. I couldn't help myself. I didn't want to get in trouble! Karen looked quizzically at me, but I figured we'd pay our money and then figure out for ourselves where we could eat lunch.

But of course, that hastily-thought-out plan backfired. We walked through the park to the picnic area I had seen from the parking lot. Um yeah, there's no way to get into it from the park. From our vantage point on the far side of the picnic area, I could see that the entrance was, indeed, from the parking lot. But it was right at the beginning of the parking lot, so by the time we had parked and I had looked, all I had seen was fences.

It was all starting to come together, as we stood on the outside of the fence. Apparently, if people wanted to bring their own food, they had to eat in the picnic area and THEN enter the park. Hence the pointed question about bringing in food when we paid our admission.

This was good to know, but wasn't much use to us at the current juncture. We could walk another 10 minutes back through the park to the parking lot and into the picnic area .... or we could just jump the fence where we were at. I mean, who was watching, really?

When I suggested it, Karen looked at me like I was crazy. But I persisted. Who was to know? And it's not like we didn't pay admission. We were getting out of the park, not in.

I managed to strong-arm her into cooperating with my crazy scheme. Who knew her daughter-in-law would be such a bad influence?!? She went over first, I handed over everything (Eleanor, lunch, diaper bag, stroller) and climbed over after. Success!

We enjoyed a delicious lunch. As I sat, munching on salad, I looked around and came to another realization. The only way back into the park was .... through the welcome center. Past the no-food lady. Huh.

I tried to convince Karen to scale the fence again, but she had reached her rule-breaking limits. A wiser head prevailed, and we returned the leftover food to the care and headed towards the welcome center, prepared for a well-earned tongue-lashing.

This time, we saw the very small, unobtrusive sign saying "no outside food in the park. eat at the picnic area first." We realized that, on our first time in, the sign had been hidden behind the clump of schoolchildren waiting to board their bus.

But the gods smiled upon us, and we got lucky. When crossing from the parking lot, we ended up behind a group of two women with several children. Upon entering the building, they went directly to the admission counter. We went to the far left side of the entrance area (what would typically be used by people leaving) and pushed on through with a wide smile of greeting for the confused counter ladies.

I, personally, didn't really start breathing until we were outside again. I resisted the urge to look behind us and see whether we were being chased. (We weren't.) We walked quickly to the main path, and began our tour of Lake Farmpark all over again. Hopefully on the right side of the law, this time.

Mostly in Training

Trying to train for the half-marathon has been a challenge. Both in terms of motivation and opportunity, I have been somewhat lacking.

Last week, I missed my mid-week runs because I had some kind of food poisoning or other stomach ailment, and I was not fit for rolling out of bed at 5am to run. I did, however, manage to finish my 10-mile run over the weekend, and I was happy about that.

Then yesterday, I was determined to get back on the horse and get out first thing in the morning, so I didn't fall out of the habit. I did drag myself out of bed not too long after the alarm first went off. I was only halfway through getting dressed, however, when I heard rain beating against the windows and bolstered by a cold, brisk wind.

I immediately scurried back to the bedroom, threw off my running clothes and slipped back into my pajamas and still-warm side of the bed. And then I worked until 7 o'clock in the evening yesterday, followed by errands, and didn't get home until 8:30. So running in the evening wasn't an option.

I just don't know what to think about this upcoming race. And it's coming up sooner than I think—just a month away. Am I going to be prepared for it? Am I going to be happy with my time? I'd like to think that I'll be happy just to finish .... or even just to get to the starting line ..... but I'm not convinced. I tend to be a rather competitive person; I'm not sure if I'm capable of just being happy to be there.

Hopefully I can do my tempo run tomorrow morning and my 8-mile run goes well this weekend, and I'll feel like I'm back on track. In 2 weeks, I am doing my longest run of the training—12 miles—and if I can do that, I will feel confident that finishing the race is within my grasp. But is that enough?

Party Hair

Last Saturday was a day of birthday festivities for us. Saturday morning we went to the other side of town for my nephew Gavin's first birthday party. Then, in the afternoon, we headed back home to go to a 2-year birthday party for a girl up the street.

I can't believe that Eleanor and Gavin are both one! They both looked so old at Gavin's birthday party. For a week or so, I've been wondering whether Eleanor's hair was long enough to put it up, and we finally decided to try so she could have fancy "party hair." As you can see in the picture (courtesy of Erin, since we haven't uploaded our camera yet), it was pretty fancy, indeed.

I didn't get to put her hair up until we got to Erin and Josh's, so I came armed with all different types of baby hair accessories, not knowing which would work best. Eleanor screamed bloody murder the entire time I was trying to do it, and throwing her head around—which of course only prolonged her torture. But you try reasoning with her! She didn't listen to me.

My mom, of course, found it hilarious. I'm pretty sure she was having flashbacks to trying to do my hair. She kept giggling, and was disappointed when I finished and Eleanor stopped freaking out before she got a picture of it. Everyone that came later and said, "Oh, her hair is so cute!", Mom made sure to tell them about the drama. I think she's looking forward to watching Eleanor assert her independence over the next few years, and me trying to keep my cool in the face of toddler temper tantrums.

And of course, after all that, I had to take it down halfway through the party (the first party!) because one of the two pigtails had slid partway down her head and her party hair was looking very sad, indeed. I tucked the two mini-hairbands in my pocket. The rest of the baby hair accessory collection that we had just purchased was in the diaper bag, along with the comb.

When we got home, the two renegade hairbands ended up on the kitchen counter, and Gomez tried to steal them and play with them. We have now entered the era of not only trying to keep track of toys underfoot, but also minuscule hair bands and clips. Of course, after that temper tantrum, I won't be doing her hair again until it's a special event. But we do have a wedding to go to this weekend in Kentucky .... so if you live just South of Cincinnati and hear screams reverberating on the hair Saturday morning, no cause for alarm! Just a couple adorable pigtails.

Happy Anniversary!

Today is Keith's and my 5-year wedding anniversary. I can't believe it's been 5 years already!

On the other hand, when I said that to Keith, he pointed out that there've been some changes since September 2004, namely called Beckett and Gomez and Eleanor.

We actually celebrated our anniversary last weekend. We dropped Eleanor off at my parents' for *gulp* her first night away from us. I had a hard time leaving, but once we were off I was fine. We both went for a run in the Metroparks (at the same time!) and then went to check in at a local B&B. It's actually the same B&B where we stayed on our wedding night. However, that night we checked in at about 11:30pm, fell into bed, and woke up around 4:00am the next morning to catch our flight to Mexico for the honeymoon. We didn't eat anything or enjoy the "Victorian charm," and have always said that we wanted to go back.

This time, we did practically nothing but hang out in the room. I took a long, hot bubble bath. We both napped, read books in silence, watched some TV. We went out for a fabulous dinner of Mexican food and stuffed ourselves to the gills. We went back to the room, started a movie, and took a break to walk a few minutes down the road to get frozen custard for dessert.

I was also very excited to sleep in on Sunday. Keith pointed out that we were only sleeping in until 8:30, to make our 9:00 scheduled breakfast time. On Saturday, Eleanor had actually let us sleep until a bit after 8, so our big "long lie" on Sunday wouldn't be much later. But I protested that it would feel completely different; we would KNOW that, barring a major catastrophe, we could sleep until 8:30am. And being secure in that knowledge made all the difference in the world.

Of course we were happy and excited to see Eleanor after a night away. But I would be lying if I said I was thinking about her every second we were gone. Instead, most of the time I was thinking about her father, and how much I still enjoy spending time with him after being married for 5 years. (And dating for 7 years before that.) I'm looking forward to what the next 5 years will bring .... maybe for our 10-year anniversary, we'll spend TWO nights away from home!

Is It Really That Hard? Hubcaps

The Matrix lost a hubcap a few weeks back. Considering the state of the potholes in this city (they're littered with, at times, up to several feet of road—just disgraceful!), it's a surprise that it took this long. But we have also tarried in getting the hubcap replaced, and this is why.

It's IMPOSSIBLE to replace just one hubcap. Do they really think that all 4 fall off at once? Are you telling me that NO ONE ELSE replaces hubcaps that fall off; everyone is trading up to fancy rims and spinners and whatnot? Keith tried to find just one replacement hubcap online (the repository of everything, on sale for cheap with free shipping), and the price was much too high to justify it. Instead, I will end up going to a local auto parts store and buying a set of 4 new hubcaps.

And what am I supposed to do with the three perfectly good hubcaps that I will now be discarding? It's just so wasteful. And perhaps a bit wanton.

Last weekend, in the Costco parking lot, we saw a Matrix that had only one hubcap. Keith suggested we stake out the car and offer to buy the one hubcap off the hapless owner for $10; the owner could make some money, and we would still be putting our 3 good hubcaps to use.

Maybe we need some sort of online hubcap exchange. I just tried googling the phrase "online hubcap exchange" and didn't find anywhere that both offered 1) the right hubcaps and 2) proper American English. So I guess I will stick with going to the store and buying all new ones.

But is it really that hard to just replace one?!?

The Great TV Experiment Part 2

Since we got rid of DirecTV, Keith has been trying to get everything set up digitally. He's been moving computers and monitors hither and thither to experiment with Hulu, Boxee, and all manner of ways to watch TV without actually having any kind of TV service.

The other week, he stole the monitor from my desktop computer upstairs. I found it very disconcerting to walk into the study and see the empty desk. I couldn't help but think of my computer as being "headless." Although, technically speaking, I guess the brain is in the CPU anyway? But it did make it challenging to do anything on the computer at all. He was using the laptop to work on, plus the monitor from the upstairs computer to interface with a different computer running some other program ..... all I know is, I just want to write my blog and plan lessons!

I think that it's been more of a challenge to get everything set up than he had anticipated. The technology fervor has died down somewhat. We haven't watched many shows lately, and when we have, it's just been on the laptop. (We got the laptop as a second home computer, so it is rather large and unwieldy, with a 17-inch widescreen, so that's not as ridiculous as it sounds.)

Once last week, Eleanor went down for her nap and I needed something to distract me while folding diapers. So I opened up the laptop, went to Hulu, and watched an episode of "Bones." It was a little jumpy, but overall I enjoyed it. And I really just needed it for background, so it didn't bother me to miss a word here or there.

I think we gave up DirecTV at the end of August, so it's been almost a month sans a multitude of TV channels. So far, so good. I honestly feel like I don't notice it very much. I'm fine with watching every once in a while on the laptop. Maybe I'll feel differently once the fall TV season is in full swing, though....

You Know You're Getting Old When ....

... your sister IMs you that LBJ is doing a book signing at Borders and she is probably going to go.

You immediately picture Lyndon Baines Johnson instead of LeBron James.














Photo credit: wikipedia.org

The Great TV Experiment

We finally did it: we got rid of our DirecTV. When we moved to Cleveland, Keith had stipulated that we get DirecTV so that he could watch Bengals and Reds games. I thought it was a fair trade.

But it eats up a big chunk of our monthly budget. And lately, we really haven't been watching much TV at all. Since we don't allow Eleanor to watch TV yet, that means we don't watch TV. We could in the evenings, after Eleanor is in bed, but there never seems to be any time. We are too busy cleaning up the kitchen, getting ready for the day tomorrow, working out .... trying to fit in everything else that happens in our lives that does not rely on Eleanor's presence. So we have a huge backlog of shows on our DVR and it starts to feel more like work to keep up with them than entertainment.

I left the decision up to Keith, since he is more of the TV watcher than I am. I've maintained for many years that I could do without TV. So just a few weeks ago, he pulled the plug and cancelled the service. Now we have just the basic stations that we can pick up with the digital tuner. The living room TV is actually useless for anything except movies, because it doesn't have a digital tuner.

I'm a little nervous because now I need to put my money where my mouth is. Do I really watch as little TV as I think? How will I manage without Project Runway? We can still watch TV on the Internet with Hulu and in "real time" (whatever that is—I can't even remember!) ... but I will miss the DVR, I'm sure.

On the other hand, I'm pretty excited. We've put off getting rid of the DirecTV for a long time because we were scared. Could we do it? I couldn't even imagine?!? But now we'll find out.

Making the Switch

It's about that time of year. I'm making the switch from iced tea to delicious, warm-your-toes hot tea.

Iced tea is fine, as beverages go. It offers a shot of caffeine with a hint of bitterness. No calories, which is also a good thing.

But hot tea is so much more. Holding a steaming mug on a cold day is divine. I think it has to do with the forced anticipation of refreshment as I'm waiting for the tea to cool enough to drink. I look forward to drinking it long before the first sip actually takes place. Plus, for whatever reason I feel like the flavors are more intense. Even though I use the same tea bags to make iced tea as I do for hot tea, I find the flavor of hot tea much more appealing.

Or maybe it's all in my head. Maybe it has nothing to do with the beverage, but the fact that the switch coincides with my favorite season, Fall. No matter what the reason, I'm looking forward to getting my tea mugs back out and switching the kettle on after my early morning runs!

In the Spotlight

So if I can harp on it just one more time, I broke my finger two years ago while running before dawn. That put me off running before work for awhile. (Plus, you know, pregnancy and then having a baby to care for and all.)

But recently, I decided to start running early in the day again. Mostly because of that whole baby thing; it's really the only time that I can count on it happening. I was excited, but nervous. What if I fell and broke my wrist this time. How stupid would I seem THEN?!? To do it once is understandable. But twice is a little ridiculous.

I did run a few times when it was still dark out, and I just felt so vulnerable. I spent the whole time looking at my feet. Was that a shadow? Or is my foot about to be swallowed by a mammoth pothole? I was happy to be getting out again, but it wasn't the most enjoyable experience ever.

But then I remembered that, for his birthday, my Mother-in-law gave Keith a running headlamp. He's never worn it (I guess, for some reason, he feels it's unnecessary when he runs downtown on his lunch hour). So I had to hound him to dig it up, but he found it eventually. And wow! What a difference it makes.

I feel so much better and more secure running with my very own headlight. Literally. So far I've chosen to use the one that clips onto the underside of a baseball hat brim, which somehow seems slightly less dorky looking than the contraption that actually straps directly to your head.

There are a few things that I need to keep in mind, however:

1. I can't look other runners in the eyes and nod a friendly "Hello!" without blinding them.
2. I feel bad for Beckett when he has to make a pitstop, because I'm watching and waiting for him to finish (especially if it's something I'm going to have to pick up), and that means he is in a spotlight of sorts. No privacy here!
3. I can't try to peer into softly lit windows without giving away my voyeuristic tendencies. This morning I was running past this gorgeous mansion that I am always curious about. I fantasize about moving in there—there's even a second apartment on the grounds, above the garage and just past the pool, where visitors could stay or that could become my writing nook. (Because of course, for us to move into this place either Keith would have to create a bestselling web app or iPod app or I would have to write The Great American Novel.) So anyway, this morning I was running past about 5:45am and I saw a light on. Could I see inside? What was the decor like? Was it one of the owners that was up already? Or do they actually have servants? As I turned to get a better look, I saw the beam of my headlamp flash over the curb, up over the lush green grass and well-trimmed shrubberies, and into the window itself. I quickly looked back at my feet and picked up the pace.

Macabre, But Sensible

Over the weekend, Keith and I were running some errands. We were stopped at a red light next to the entrance to a large cemetery, and I glanced over and saw a sign in the window of the offices. It said:

Free Fill Dirt.

and listed a phone number.

I had never really thought about it, although it makes sense they'd have plenty of high quality dirt to give away. Still gives me the chills, though.

Read to Write

I think the first couple weeks of class have gone well. We're settling into more of a routine, and I am starting to actually believe that I am a professor. Today will be their first graded assignment, though, which may change the equation a bit. I'm not used to being the bad guy, so I'm concerned about flunking students if their work isn't up to the necessary standard. I guess I should wait to worry about that until they actually turn in their first essay, though.

On several occasions, I've tried to emphasis how important it is to read to become a good writer. No matter what you type of literature you prefer, reading will ALWAYS make you a better writer, especially when it comes to grammar and punctuation. As you see where commas go, you will subconsciously get a feel for when a comma is needed or not.

I'm not sure that they are convinced, though. It feels like a bit of a hopeless task. How can you imbue college students with a love of reading if it isn't there already? If they've spent most of their lives thinking that reading was something boring and dry, assigned by teachers and to be avoided whenever possible?

Final Camping Trip of the Year

Last weekend, we took Eleanor on what was probably our final camping trip of the year. We drove South, as did my parents, and met Keith's parents in the middle of Ohio. It was a grandparent extravaganza! Eleanor really enjoyed having adoring grandparents at every turn, admiring her walking, telling her how smart she is, always ready to give a hug, kiss, or a finger to hold onto when the ground gets rough.

I'm sad that the camping season is over. We've taken Eleanor camping 4 times this year, and have had a wonderful time. She loves exploring, staying up by the fire, and sleeping with us in the tent. When she wakes up in the morning and realizes Keith and I are right there next to her ... AND the dog is there, she's in heaven!

The end of one season now automatically brings my mind to the next year. The next time we take her camping, she will be nearly 2 years old. What will she be doing? What will be her favorite part of camping then? How many words will she know? She is changing so fast these days. I look forward to the Eleanor of next year, but I know I will miss today's Eleanor, too.

Home Improvement on Speed: New Patio

A few years ago, Keith and my Dad built a deck in the backyard. It's a beautiful deck, but it's kinda marooned in the yard. Because of the location of the back porch, plus the air conditioner next to the porch, it wasn't possible to build it right next to the house. So for 2 years, it has been on its own. An island, as it were. The plan was always to add in a patio that connected the back porch to the deck, tying it all together and also giving us a space to put the grill AND get rid of the bare patch of dirt that is Beckett's launching pad into the rest of the yard for his epic squirrel chases.

A few weeks ago, it happened! We decided the project was on, and Keith turned into a machine. We chose some pavers, and Keith ordered them plus all the gravel, sand, etc. that would be needed. It showed up at our house on Saturday morning. Keith and my Dad spent all day Saturday digging out the grass, dirt, etc. so the site was ready on Sunday to start laying the gravel and then pavers down.

On Sunday it was a group effort: Keith, Dad, and brother-in-law Josh worked on the patio while I and my sister Amy worked on the flower/ivy bed nearby, clearing out loose pebbles from the previous deck project, pulling up weeds, and bringing in new dirt and plants. Erin and my Mom watched the babies and helped with some indoor projects. And also fed us, which is very important:)

(Sidenote: Have I ever mentioned how nice it is to live near your family? I highly recommend it for many reasons, and large home improvement projects is definitely high on the list!)

By Sunday evening, nearly everything was finished except for a few pavers that needed to be cut to fit the angled sides. Keith worked on it some Monday night, and my Dad came back over on Wednesday evening and they finished cutting/placing pavers and added the finishing sand to lock everything in place.



Now that the project is over, it's hard to believe it took us so long to get it started. It makes a huge difference, and the deck actually looks like it belongs there and is a natural extension of the house. The main obstacle to us tackling this project wasn't time and effort, but money. Even so, I'm glad we finally bit the bullet and just went ahead and did it. Just in time for gathering around the fire pit on the patio in cool weather!

A Break from Home Sweet Home

Why is it that I can never get anything done at home? I dream of the day that home is actually an oasis from the world, instead of being the place that populates the majority of my to-do lists.

Right now I'm at a coffee shop 5 minutes from home, and I'm happy and feeling productive. I don't care that there's some crumbs on the floor or drinks to be made, because it's not my work to do!

When did home switch from being restful to being the source of my stress? It probably started the day we moved out of the rented apartment into our first house .... and of course, got markedly more noticeable after Eleanor was born.

Someday, I will accept that I am not superwoman. With one child, a dog, a cat, and a penchant for buying books ... my home will never be a spotless showcase. I will learn to look past the piles of unopened mail and dirty dishes, and just enjoy playing with Eleanor or allow myself to put my feet up at the end of a long day and read a chapter (or two, or three, well maybe just one more ....) without the oppressive guilt of undone laundry and unswept floors pressing down on me.

On the other hand, I also think that someday, I will be able to get more down. There's already a huge difference between this time last year, when Eleanor was only a month old, and today. Back then, I was lucky if I was dressed and teeth brushed by the time Keith got home from work. (And sometimes, it was a race to make it!) Now, that is generally a given. I am running more regularly. The fridge is regularly stocked and we aren't eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches at 10pm because we never got around to making dinner. Nor are we picking clothes up off the floor and dusting them off, declaring them "good enough" because there's just no time for laundry. So there's been improvement in our abilities to be good parents AND responsible adults, and I think it will continue to improve. Someday, I WILL reorganize the living room so everything that is shoved on the top shelf out of baby's way will actually have a home. I will start projects and finish them in something approximating a timely manner.

I think it's a matter of balance. Of meeting somewhere in the middle. Most days, I will do the dishes and be able to plan meals for the next day while throwing in a load of laundry and still make it to bed at a reasonable hour. On the days when I can't get everything done and am feeling overwhelmed, I need to allow myself the time to decompress and put off the to-do list until tomorrow.

Someday I will have that ebb and flow, the give and take between productive days and the days when I'm just getting by. And, on the rough days, I'll accept things a bit more readily because I will be confident that the next day or the day after that will be easier.

Someday, I won't have to go to the coffee shop to sit and think and not be distracted by EVERYTHING THAT MUST BE DONE BY ME ASAP. Someday, my home will once again be my restful oasis.

Google Followers

I noticed that last week I got two new followers. Welcome, Eleanor (what a beautiful name!;) and Jennifer! I hope you enjoy Gapesnest.

To be honest, I'm not very savvy on the whole Follower widget. How is it different from just using Google Reader? Is it just that others can see what blogs you follow? A combination of a feed reader and a blog roll, perhaps?

If you use Follower, I'd be interested to hear why you like it!

Class Came up a Little Short

It was not the most auspicious beginning to a teaching career ever. I was five minutes late to class; all the students were already seated and waiting. As soon as I rushed into the classroom—having just picked up the copies of the syllabus hot off the presses—I swear I could feel the sweat pouring off me, because of nerves. "Just keep your arms by your side and no one will notice," I told myself, two minutes before I reached up to write on the board.

Other than one student who had a career in industry and is coming back to school for a career change, I think the entire class is fresh out of high school. Which is good, because it makes me feel like more of an authority. But it makes me feel old when I realize that I'm 13 years older than my students. 13 years! When I was their age, they were just starting kindergarten.

The lesson I had prepared went pretty well, I think. There was more class participation than I was expecting, which I think is a good sign for the rest of the semester. If they're willing to talk on the first day when they don't know anyone, there should be some lively class discussions down the road.

My mentor professor, who has been teaching this class for several years, did warn me that it's highly unlikely my entire class will pass. It's hard to look around at my new students and wonder who will be the one(s) to not make it. Him in the corner? Her in the second row?

I had tried to plan the class to the minute, to calm my nerves. We'd spend 5 minutes taking attendance, 10 minutes on the syllabus, 10 minutes on writing, then 10 minutes discussing the writing .... I thought it might be a stretch to get it all in, but I thought it would be better to be overprepared than run out of things to work on.

Fast forward to the end of my lesson plan for the day. As I'm wrapping up my final points, I realize there's nearly 40 minutes left in the class. 40 minutes! Class is supposed to be 2 hours long, so that's a good chunk of time (36% of class, actually). But it's too late. I know I can't come up with another 40 minutes of material on the fly. So I dismiss them to have extra time for reading, purchasing the book .... doing something vaguely class-related.

When class was over, I was so relieved. I made it through the first day! Now I just have to go through it all again tomorrow. And Friday. And next week .... although at some point, I'll start to feel a little more prepared and authoritative, right?

To-do: Break Another Finger

I really don't get search engines sometimes. Every once in awhile, I'll wander over to Site Meter to see what my stats are like. I like to view recent visitors by location, to see where in the world my blog is being read.

Nine times out of 10, when it's a place I'm unfamiliar with and I'm not expecting on the list, the details will reveal that this person mistakenly ended up on my blog through a search for random terms, and stayed a grand total of zero seconds. (I really must change the design if it's so off-putting they leave in less than a second, because surely no one has time to be offended by the writing yet.)

Roughly 99.9% of those searches? They reference broken fingers in some way, and point back to when I broke my finger almost 2 years ago. Two years ago! And that's still generating more traffic than anything I've written since? Oh wait, sometimes the searches refer to some technical point about pregnancy like gestational diabetes or ultrasound images.

But mostly, it's the broken finger. So I'll just type that phrase in here a few more times, maybe describe some symptoms like bruising or feeling nauseous ... and we'll see what happens with the traffic! And rest assured, if I have any other exciting ailments or injuries, I'll be sure to tell you about them in detail.

You May Call Me "Professor"

I'm happy to say that I'm making a big change. Next week will be my last week as an office manager, and my first week as a part-time English professor at a community college. I will also work as a tutor in their drop-in writing center.

This has been in the works for quite some time, but I didn't really believe it was going to happen. For many months now, I've been working part-time at a job that should be full-time. I had hoped that it could be turned into a job-share position, where 2 people work the full 40 hours. But as time went on, it looked like that wasn't going to happen and I was going to need to find something else.

But what? I really didn't want to work any more than I am currently—I was willing to be flexible on type of work, salary (to a point!), work time of day .... but spending more time away from Eleanor is one area that I wouldn't budge. So I've been stressing out over it a lot since January.

But slowly, things fell into place. We got to know some neighbors—a husband and wife who were both English majors, as well. He is a full-time, tenured English professor at this community college. Keith was doing a little looking around online and saw the posting for a part-time adjunct, and the next time I ran into the neighbor while we were both walking with our daughters, I asked his opinion about it. He got me in touch with the right people and reassured me when I didn't hear anything for months that it wasn't a bad sign, it's just a slow process.

And finally, it's happening. I'm wrapping up projects at my office, and planning my syllabus for class. I have a lot of anxiety right now, but I can tell that it's the good kind of anxiety. Anxiety about making a large life change .... one that is daunting from here, but I know that it will be a good, positive thing in the long run.

Wish me luck!

A Momentous First: Avoiding Bedtime

Eleanor cracked me up the other night. She knows the sign language for "diaper"' and "all done" (like when she's finished eating). Friday night we had friends over for dinner and she was not very happy about going to bed while there was so much going on. But we went upstairs and I gave her a bottle and read a few books and was singing her to sleep. After much squirming she settled down and rested her head on my shoulder.

She suddenly lifted her head and patted her chest (her modified sign for "diaper"). I said no, we had just changed her diaper and it was fine. She laid her head back down, but it popped up again a moment later as she gave me the sign for "all done"—hands out to the side, palms up.

She looked so hopeful. Like, I can communicate! She must obey my wishes! It was hard not to laugh, but I sternly told her that she was not "all done" with going to bed, and she wasn't going to get out of it. Finally she settled down and went to sleep with just a short cry of protest when I laid her in the crib.

I'm sure this is only the first of many many times that she'll try to put off bedtime. Such an exciting development in communication .... that I'll probably be cursing by next week!