Happy Birthday, Eleanor!

Even almost 2 weeks later, I'm still a little in shock to realize that I'm the mother of a 1-year-old. A toddler, no longer a baby.

In case you couldn't tell by the lack of posting, the craziness of her birthday weekend wore me out. So many people and activities and presents! But it was a great weekend and a wonderful birthday party.

I tried to get everyone to tell me beforehand what they were getting Eleanor, so I could warn them if there were any duplicates. But, by and large, everyone refused to tell me. I think because, since Eleanor wasn't really that concerned with her birthday festivities this year, it felt like the surprise was more for Keith and me than it was for Eleanor. And no one wants to ruin a surprise!

So I half expected to get the same 5 toys repeatedly, perhaps top recommendations by Parents magazine or all Baby Einsteins because Eleanor is just that smart :) But I was very impressed by the fact that she got a wide variety of toys and clothes. We pulled out a few toys to give her later, when these start to lose their luster. But for now, she loves all of the new toys. From the complicated water table to the rocking horse to the "beach bag" that she piles everything into and carries from room to room, she is enthralled! And it's fun for us to see her interacting with all of these new toys and, ergo, how much she has grown mentally and physically in the past year.

I'm sure this next year will be a lot of fun!

A Year Ago Today ....

.... Nothing happened. It was my due date for Little L, but all was quiet. I remember thinking about how, for 9 months, we'd focused on July 17 like it was a date set in stone. Like we were planning a wedding or some other event that could be, well, predicted. And wondering, if it wasn't the 17th, what date would become the important one to remember for the rest of my days?

I think July 20 is a good day for a birthday. Especially for a girl. Apparently there was some important women's history made on July 20. According to Wikipedia, on that date in 1921, Congresswoman Alice Mary Robertson became the first woman to preside over the US House of Representatives. Five years later, a convention of the Methodist Church voted to allow women to become priests. In 1942 during World War II, the first unit of the Women's Army Corps began training in Des Moines, Iowa. 1960 saw Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) elect Sirimavo Bandaranaike Prime Minister, the world's first elected female head of government. I would also rank it as a banner day for women (and men) that, on July 20, 2005, Canada became the fourth country in the world to legalize same-sex marriage.

And then, at 9:14 am July 20, 2008, Eleanor was born. She joined other notable July 20 births including: Alexander the Great (356BC), Gregor Mendel (1822), Sir Edmund Hillary (1919), Carlos Santana (1947), Stone Gossard (1966), Gisele Bündchen (1980), and Julianne Hough (1988)*.

Sorry, July 17. You had your chance!



*Recent years have been light on scientists and world leaders, and heavy on entertainment and sports. But maybe Eleanor will change that!

You're Not Allowed to Have an Opinion

You know what's been annoying lately? With Eleanor's birthday approaching, acquaintances have started the (wink wink, nudge nudge) "Guess it's time for the next one!"

Our families and close friends can joke about it. Like when my Mom "casually" remarked last week that, when my older sister turned a year old, my Mom was already pregnant with me. But then she did think a moment, and remembered that she was on a two-year maternity leave and she was trying to fit two babies into one maternity leave. I don't have that motivation.

But I've heard it from a few people that I only see once in a great while, with whom I'm not particularly close (none of them know about this blog, for instance), and that's just annoying. Whether my uterus is currently occupied or not is really not any of your business. Nor do you need to know if the occupancy status will be changing any time soon. Why do people think this is an appropriate, casual topic of conversation?

It's said along the lines of "Can you believe the weather?" or "How about that local sports team?" People, please remember that a woman's reproductive organs are NOT good water cooler talk. Just sayin'.

Against All Odds

This past weekend, Keith and I had plans. For the first time since Eleanor was born, we were going out with my parents.

That may not seem strange, but I will admit, we actually used to go out with my parents on a pretty regular basis. We buy tickets together to the Explorer Series at the Museum of Natural History and we all like a bit of Shakespeare or baseball now and again.

Since last July, we have gone out in twos and threes. My Mom and I go to a science lecture while my Dad and Keith stayed home with the baby. Mom watches Eleanor while the rest of us go to a baseball game. But finally, Mom's friend Mary Lou watched Eleanor last Saturday while Keith and I and my parents went to see "As You Like It" put on by the The Ohio Shakespeare Festival at Stan Hywet Hall and Gardens.

I never thought it was going to happen. First, Eleanor came down with a fever on Thursday. Friday was a bad, bad day, full of tears and fitful sleep and not a whole lot of eating or rest for anyone.

And it rained. Did I mention that the performance was supposed to take place outdoors? Thursday and Friday, it poured. By Saturday morning, we figured our big night out was shot.

I was so happy to be wrong! Eleanor woke up Saturday morning feeling much better—her fever was gone and she was still a little cranky, but overall much more like herself. We still had thunderstorms Saturday morning, but they were mostly cleared up by mid-afternoon and we decided to go ahead with our plans.

We went through the KFC drive-thru on the way out to Stan Hywet, and enjoyed a picnic dinner on the grounds before heading over to our seats in the audience. After the weather and Eleanor being sick for the past few days, I was actually convinced that I wouldn't enjoy the show. I thought I would be so busy worrying about all the things I hadn't gotten done over the past few days, and whether Eleanor was really better or not, that I wouldn't be able to relax and enjoy the show.

And again, I was wrong. (It was a very humbling day for me.) Once we got away from the house and were in the idyllic setting of the Stan Hywet grounds (the play was set up near the scene pictured above), I remembered what it was like to go out. We made conversation, enjoyed the weather, and thought about literary themes and actors' performances.

It's good to get out sometimes. Especially when it's against all odds, and you really need a break from reality.

Is It Really That Hard?: Haircuts

Why is it so hard to find a good place for a haircut? I really don't think my standards are so very exacting. I want a decent haircut; that is, one that is a) noticeably shorter than when I arrived, and b) looks better than when I arrived.

I also don't want to pay an exorbitant amount for it. In the Midwest, for a haircut that only takes maybe a half-hour, I would consider a fair price to be around $30-40. Making a dollar per minute sounds pretty good to me.

And yet. We've lived here for 3 years now, and I still am having a hard time finding a place to get my hair cut at a good price. At first I got it cut on the West side, near my parents'. But that was quite a trek, and the person who I liked there moved somewhere else .... so I figured I should find somewhere closer to me.

There's actually 2 salons within walking distance of my house. But both of them charge $50 or more for just the haircut alone, not counting the obligatory 20% tip. I think that's F-ing ridiculous.

But, on the other hand, I also refuse to go to someplace like Best Cuts where I could wait for an hour or more, and I have no idea who is going to be cutting my hair. I've had enough hair traumas in my life that I'm not going to expose myself to that much risk.

Another new hair place opened up a few months ago, and my friend Emily tried it and liked it so I thought I'd go there, too. Until I found out that this brand new place ALSO charges $50 for a haircut. But you just opened!!! That doesn't seem right.

FINALLY, I found a place about 5 minutes away called Fast Eddy's Chop Shop. They had a motorcycle theme, which isn't my favorite but I really didn't care all that much. Lots of chrome and black and orange, with loud music and a very open styling floor. Not a lot of the frills that come with a "salon." They didn't offer me herbal tea or sparkling water when I arrived, and that was fine by me. The stylist cut my hair, did a good job, and all for less than $40. I was sold!

That was back in the winter, and I've been meaning to go back for awhile but hadn't gotten around to it. But with Eleanor's birthday fast approaching and the prospect of many pictures that will be saved for posterity, I figured it was really time.

But I've been trying to call them off and on for a week, and never managed to get through. Finally, today, I get a recording that says they are temporarily closed, sorry for the inconvenience, and I can leave my name and number if I want to be notified of their grand reopening soon.

So I gave up. I called one of the over-priced salons near my house and made an appointment for next Tuesday. I can't fight the system any more! But I'd better have damn good hair in all of Eleanor's birthday photos, and I'll be sure to tell the stylist that when she hands me my steaming mug of chai.

My Toughest Critic

Before Eleanor was born, I was certain that I would make my own baby food. I mean, why not?!? How hard can it be? It would take hardly any time, save us lots of money, and ensure that our precious baby was getting only the purest of ingredients, lovingly crafted into delectable mush.

And then. Eleanor. I tried making baby food a few times. But 1) it took a LOT longer than I was anticipating, and 2) she refused to eat it. Even though she loves baby food in a jar. So it's not saving us much money if I end up throwing all of it out. I don't know; maybe I tried the wrong foods, or the wrong techniques, or something. But she wasn't having it, and I was incredibly frustrated, so I gave up.

Then we tried to make the switch to real food. Which she also doesn't really like. The girl likes her food slimey and out of a jar, or in the shape of a fish, and it's been a hard trait to combat. But we keep trying. We've cooked sweet potatoes, peas, carrots, plain pasta. I've given her raw strawberries, blueberries, cantaloupe, watermelon, and more. She's tried orange juice, cheddar cheese, swiss cheese, and cottage cheese. Every day, for every meal, I give her little bits of finger food that, 90% of the time, doesn't ever get eaten. Most of it goes in the mouth, but it all comes right back out again. We were shocked this weekend when she seemed to be eating ham. Ham! And the next day, when we offered it again, it was summarily rejected.

So. The point I'm getting at here, is that I was amazed to serve her the same meal that we ate tonight: whole wheat spaghetti with veggie pasta sauce. And she loved it!! She couldn't get enough. I don't know if it's because she was eating the same thing as us, or the taste, or whatever. But it was the first time I've actually cooked something for her and had such a positive reaction. I felt on top of the world.

I don't know how I'm going to feel tomorrow, however, when I try to feed it to her again, and it ends up on the floor, getting hoovered up by the dog. Can this be the start of a streak, where she actually eats real food? Or am I just getting my hopes up for nothing?

At least if she rejects her birthday cake, I'll know that it means something is wrong with her taste buds, and it's not my cooking.

Using a Time-Turner?

Yesterday, I managed to sleep in AND get an early morning run. How is that possible?

It's all in your perception, my friend. The key is that my definition of "sleeping in" has changed significantly over the past year. Nowadays, I consider sleeping in to be anything past when Eleanor wakes up. So if Eleanor starts chattering away at 6am, but Keith gets up with her so I can sleep until 6:3o ... that counts as sleeping in! Because I know that I got bonus sleep.

On Sunday, Eleanor did indeed wake up at 6 o'clock, happy and alert. Happy is always good, but 6 o'clock was EARLY. Especially since she didn't go to be until after 9 o'clock the night before—when her normal bedtime is 8pm. I felt bad for Keith, but reveled in the feeling of snuggling back under the covers. Every once in a while, the sound of Eleanor's laughter or Keith's talking filtered back up, past the covers, into my dreams. But I knew she was happy and being taken good care of, so I went right back to sleep.

I was planning on sleeping in until 7 ... I rolled over and looked at the clock at 7:12. I told myself I should really get up .... but then Gomez came and laid on me. So I didn't actually get up until 7:30.

So that is how I "slept in" until 7:30. It felt restful and decadent. And then I got dressed and was out the door around 8 o'clock for 5-mile run with Beckett. I love running in the morning, and I so rarely get to do it anymore. Being out before everyone is up, the cool weather, the morning sunshine, knowing that your run is under your belt and you can face the rest of the day with a good conscience.

99.9% of the time, I complain about how being a mother means I have no time to myself. But this is one way that having Eleanor around makes it seem like I have more time. Or I guess it just means that I value my time much more highly. I love that getting out of bed before 8 o'clock can seem like a treat, but I still have the rest of the day, stretching ahead of me.

Intermittently Annoying

There's been a ridiculous amount of rain here over the past week. So I've been reminded on many car trips that our 2003 Toyota Matrix only has one intermittent wiper setting.

What's the deal with that?!? Keith's first car was a 97 Chevy Cavalier and mine was a 2000 Chrysler Neon. Both of these cars were compact cars, bought second-hand, because we could barely afford any car loan at all. I needed my dad to co-sign so that I could even get the loan, since all I had was student debt and a few months of full-time work under my belt.

My point being: both of these cars had several intermittent wiper settings. So whether the clouds are just spittin', or the skies have opened up, you could get just the right amount of wiper action. I thought, with buying a foreign crossover car, we were moving up a step on the car-buying rung. But instead, only ONE intermittent wiper setting?!? Really?!? I will keep this in mind for next time, Toyota!

This Blog Is the Man

There were lots of comments, electronically and otherwise, on the last post about keeping track of diet and fitness. I would love to offer this blog as a place for my friends and readers to let me / the world know how their efforts at healthy living are going.

I know that a certain person is training for her first full marathon, another particular husband is shooting for a new 5k PR, and some of us are trying to lose baby weight, or maintain that weight loss.

Although this isn't specifically a fitness blog (you should head over to FitGeGe for that), I'm always looking for motivation, encouragement, and tips. So, if anyone is interested, I would be happy to commit to posting on a somewhat regular basis (every two weeks or so?) about my progress or lack thereof on my weight loss and fitness goals. And hearing from everyone in the comments about how things are going for you ... or have the occasional guest post from someone who has a product they'd like to talk about or a technique that works for them.

Let me know what you think!

You Are The Man

Keith has had the Nike Plus for a few years now. His enthusiasm goes in waves; sometimes he uses it religiously, and other times (probably when he's not training as hard) he can take it or leave it. When he does use it, he really enjoys uploading his runs and tracking the stats about how far he ran in each month, when he ran fastest and slowest during each month, etc.

Knowing of his interaction with the Nike Plus, an article on Wired caught my eye the other week, titled "The Nike Experiment: How the Shoe Giant Unleashed the Power of Personal Metrics." The article discusses how seeing and analyzing the workout data motivates people to keep going. In particular, I found the reference to the Hawthorne Effect, where workers performed better just because they knew they were being watched, fascinating.

I would say that this blog is a form of the Hawthorne Effect. I put it out there to the world when I have running or weight loss goals, or all of my various New Year's resolutions. And whether anyone happens to read the post or not, I think I'm being watched, so it gives me motivation to keep to my goals.

I don't think I want to get a Nike Plus; I already have the desire to run. Maybe I need to get something that counts calories as I consume them, and then tweets them out to the universe. Or have surveillance cameras installed in the kitchen. Just the thought makes me shudder!

She's a Neat Freak

Apparently, Eleanor has decided that my housekeeping isn't quite up-to-snuff. It's bad enough that Gomez usually appears from nowhere when I'm cleaning to watch. I feel as if she's been treated like royalty in all of her cat lives, perhaps starting as an Egyptian priestess's beloved companion. She doesn't understand what I'm doing when I get out a mop and a broom. She's never actually seen such a thing before‐these types of activities were always done quietly by domestics, when Her Highness was cat napping in the sunshine in another wing of the manor. So she watches me, fascinated, when I get down on my hands and knees to sweep up furry tumbleweeds or scrub spilled baby food off the floor.

Like I said, it's enough to have Gomez for an audience. But NOW I have Eleanor showing me how things are done! I got out the Swiffer the other day, and she decided to take matters into her own chubby little baby hands, and show me how to really get to the stuff in the corners. Obviously, she only worked for as long as it took me to get the hang of things, and then she was off to try and eat Beckett's dog food before Keith or I noticed. She has more important things to do than clean.

If Beckett starts giving me cleaning tips, I'll really have to worry!

Not Secret Shopper

I haven't done a very good job of buying presents for Keith's birthday this year. As usual, I found and purchased 90% of his gifts online. I did actually buy one at a store, when I was out and about a few weeks ago, and I was very proud of myself.

I was at Costco and saw the new David Sedaris book out in paperback, and grabbed it for Keith. I was proud of myself for getting something he'd like, but wouldn't be expecting. When I got home, I set about unpacking the groceries. I put the book on the stairs to take up and hide away the next time I ran up. Fast forward a few hours, to when Keith gets home from work and heads upstairs to get changed. I'm in the kitchen (again? still?) and he calls out, "Where'd you get the new David Sedaris book?" I swear under my breath.

I didn't really buy any more presents until the end of last week. When I suddenly realized that I didn't have a whole lot of time left. One of the items I was most excited about was a Cafe Press custom t-shirt with a phrase on it that wouldn't make a whole lot of sense to anyone other than me and Keith, but it's not worth going into here. So ANYWAY, I was happy I'd thought about it, and even more excited when it arrived on Monday. Plus, I also got a package from my friend Jen, who lives in Michigan, and just happened to come across a brand new toddler's Cincinnati Bengals snowsuit at a garage sale, and sent it to us for Keith's enjoyment.

By this point, I was getting the sense that many of my online purchases wouldn't be arriving in time for his actual birthday. So I thought Jen's gift was serendipitous; I could wrap it up and put it with Keith's other presents but write "To Eleanor, on Keith's birthday" on the outside. After he opened it, I was obviously going to admit it didn't really come from me, and show him Jen's note. BUT it would be another package on the table. And it would be a package that he didn't know about, as opposed to the book.

But then, Eleanor refused to take her afternoon nap, and I decided we'd go for a run. We were supposed to be back before Keith got home from work, so I wasn't even thinking about the open packages on the living room coffee table. But by the time I got Eleanor changed and fed and ready to go .... you see what's coming. We returned home to Keith's car in the garage and the presents viewed.

So yesterday was his birthday. His iPod headphones with microphone had arrived AND I had actually managed to remember to hide them before he got home. A miracle! So he had three presents to open: the book he already knew about, the t-shirt he'd already seen, and the headphones. (Since he'd already seen the snowsuit for Eleanor, I didn't think there was much point in making him unwrap it.) None of the rest of his presents have arrived yet.

Of course, my theory about this is always that it makes your birthday/Christmas last longer, as long as you keep getting presents! So I'm really doing him a favor. Except, if his birthday lasts for a week, does that mean he's finally older than me? Or does it just mean that I'm old enough to be forgetful.

I would rather blame it on the baby, and never getting more than halfway through a thought before I have to run off and stop Eleanor from pulling the cat's tail, knocking over a glass of water, etc. But surely it will be easier when she's almost 2, right? We'll pretend they're the Terrific Twos!

Happy Birthday, Keith!

Congrats! Now you're old, and you can stop teasing me about being so old. Like you've been doing since I turned 31 at the beginning of April. Now you're right there with me!

Last night, for reasons unbeknownst to me, Keith was trying to figure out what we did on his birthday 2 years ago. He checked our Google Calendar, which had on it that the Black Keys had been playing at the Agora. Now, we did go to a Black Keys concert at the Agora once, with my sister Amy. (Remember those people who were making out next to you? Good times!) But we also have a bad habit of intending to go to concerts, putting them on the calendar, and not quite making it. Especially if the concert is on a weeknight. So did we actually go to this concert or not?

Then Keith came and checked the blog, but I hadn't written about his birthday celebrations. I think I wrote about going out to dinner and the driving range over the weekend, but not what we did on his actual birthdate.

Next I suggested he try looking at our budgeting spreadsheet. If we actually had a charge for tickets in June 2007, then we must have gone to the concert. But he looked at the old spreadsheet ... and it starts from July 2007. So we're still not exactly sure what we did on June 25, 2007. Is it really that important? No. But it is interesting to think of all the different ways we store information about our personal lives. Creepy and interesting.

So Keith, on your exact birthdate today ... we're not doing a whole lot. You're at work and I'm trying to get some cleaning and grocery shopping done. Tonight we're going to watch the Reds game and eat three-ways. But tomorrow you took off work, so we are going to the zoo with Eleanor. And, if it's as hot as it is today, immediately hopping into the baby pool when we get back.

Happy birthday, old man!

Conflicting Emotions

Here I sit at 7 o'clock am. The house is quiet; Keith just left for work, and Beckett is sleeping on the couch next to me. (He has such a tough, exhausting life, he needs to sleep until noon on some days.)

It feels like the calm before the storm. Every morning, I am so conflicted. Every morning, that is, when I manage to get out of bed and sneak down the hall to the bathroom and then into the kitchen without waking up Eleanor. So about 30% of the time.

I can't wait to see her. Every night, after she's been in bed for an hour or so, I look at Keith and sigh and say, "I miss that girl." So in the morning, I can't wait to see her smiling face as she eagerly raises her arms to be lifted out of the crib and start another exciting day. We go to the window in her room and look outside to see what kind of day it is so far, and she waves to the tree and the house across the street and any passing cars, and announces her presence to the world.

Just thinking about it now makes me smile. BUT, I also have been sitting here, quietly working on my to-do list for today. And it's long. So if she just keeps sleeping for a bit longer, maybe I could knock one or two of the small items off the list before 8 am. And wouldn't that feel great?

So I sit. Both anticipating and dreading that first squawk that lets me know quiet time is over. No more planning, or doing. Eleanor's day has started! And mine is on hold until naptime.

Like Crack for Babies

At 11 months, Eleanor is still not a great eater of solid foods. She has expanded her repetoire a bit, though. From nothing .... to crackers. One morning she still wouldn't eat any solid foods, and that afternoon she was chowing away on Graduates puffs like a champ. I thought it was a good sign ... we'd be onto "real food" in no time!

But apparently there's a texture issue. Some things are okay. She enjoys bananas in a jar AND as finger food. But real peas? sweet potatoes? chicken? They do NOT make the cut.

She does like crackers, though. And bread. Our little carb addict! I gave her goldfish crackers once, to see if she would like them. And now she wants them all the time. If I bring out the box, she starts bouncing up and down in her high chair.

With all of the foods that she's rejected, I am shocked at how eagerly she accepted the goldfish. It was an instantaneous love. When a small tupperware of goldfish crackers are proffered to her while at the store or in a restaurant, she shoves her hand in and leaves it there ... I think she's trying to get as many fish to adhere to her sticky baby fingers as possible. Last night she ate goldfish with her left hand, while still tightly clasping a dozen or so mangled fish in her right fist. Presumably to eat later.

So we're walking a fine line. Do we try to force her to try new things? Or do I just let her eat goldfish at every opportunity? Is this something she grows out of? Advice from experienced parents would be much appreciated!

Why Running Vs. Other Cardio?

A friend from high school recently asked me via email why I run vs. other types of cardio workouts. Neither Ellen nor I were "runners" in high school, we were active but didn't run for the sake of running. But in our adult lives, we've both taken up the sport; she's a more recent convert than me, and is still wondering whether it's all worth it.

I think she was asking from the perspective of actual physiological benefits. Unfortunately, I don't have much information on that front. But it did get me started thinking about why I, personally, choose to run.

One big factor is the ease. You lace up a pair of shoes, walk out the door, and go. And actually, being able to walk out the door and have nice running routes right there was a factor when we were looking at houses and neighborhoods.

Another factor is the versatility. Running is as hard or as easy as you make it .... okay, it's never really easier. But you can choose to walk if you're having a rough day, or you can pick up the pace and add in some hills if you have energy to burn.

I also appreciate that it gives me time away from everything else. If I were to do a workout video in the basement, I would still hear the phone ring or the baby crying. I just want to go.

And finally, I like that it is a sport that lends itself to goals. Big ones (like a half-marathon) and small ones (make it to the next light post without walking). I am constantly setting running goals. Sometimes I make them, sometimes not. But either way I know that running will always be challenging for me. I will always feel better after having gone for a run, whether it was a good run or not. And, after many years of not accepting it, I'm proud to call myself a "runner."

It's So CSI

Keith and I watched CSI pretty regularly for quite a few years. We haven't been watching much since Grissom left; I don't know if that's why we stopped watching, or if it just coincided with the fact that we have a lot less free time these days.

Either way, I enjoyed the show as a work of fiction. I never really thought any of their science wizardry could be applied in real life, though. The way they manipulated photographs or pulled specific sounds from a recording and identified the year, make, and model of a car from that sound ... I figured the idea of CSI was valid, but a lot of the "investigative techniques" they used on the show were just hocus pocus.

But then. Last weekend, we went camping with Eleanor for the second time. The first time was okay, but the weather was rather uncooperative and put a damper on activities, figuratively and literally. But this past time, it was gorgeous! Eleanor did wonderful—even better than the first time. She loved exploring, slept great at night .... just did fantastic. On Saturday, Keith and I walked her over to the small playground near the campsite, with just a few slides and swings. Eleanor LOVED the slide. She also loved seeing the other children and picking up pine cones.

Keith took many pictures of her, including the close-up of her face that is above. When we were looking at the pictures on the computer, however, we realized that you could see something reflected in her eyes. Keith zoomed in ... and wow! It's freaky, totally CSI. You can see Keith, wearing a red shirt, crouching down with the camera. There's grass and blue sky and clouds, all reflected in her eye.












Maybe there's more to this CSI hocus pocus than I ever believed!

My Little Irish Dancer

We like to refer to Eleanor's Johnny Jump Up as her "Johnny Dance Up."
1) We don't really care that it's gender-specific, and don't think it will warp Eleanor's mind to have a Johnny instead of a Jenny.
2) She doesn't really jump. She doesn't use both her legs together, but rather flails them both about separately, and spins herself in circles.

After much observation, I think she actually does this on purpose, because she enjoys it more than simply bouncing up and down. Pair it with her favorite Cake song, and she's a dancing machine!

Shout Out to Keith "Speed Demon" Lubbers

I just wanted to give Keith a quick shout-out for his fantastic 5k finish last weekend. After finishing his second marathon in the beginning of May (that's a post-marathon picture, not from the 5k, lest anyone give me a hard time for the Flying Pig medal on display), his goal for the summer was to focus on speedwork and achieve a sub-20 minute 5k for the first time since high school.

He entered last Sunday's race just to get an idea of where he was at in his training, and how far he had to go to achieve his goal .... and he attained it! He finished in 19:57 and placed 3rd. Not 3rd in his age group, but 3rd OVERALL.

I think that's pretty freakin' impressive! Congratulations, Keith!


*I'm sure he'll insist that I mention the fact that the race was mostly downhill, but I think
that's a minor footnote. A slightly downhill course is not going to take that much time off. I have no doubt his excellent time was due 99.9% to his hard work and speedy legs.

A Wrench in the Plans

I sprained my ankle last Friday. So easy to do, kind of like breaking my finger. I've never been a very graceful person, and not being able to pay attention to where I'm walking only exacerbates this tendency to fall over.

This time, I took Beckett and Eleanor for a walk around the block during the afternoon. I had Eleanor strapped in the Baby Bjorn on my chest, limiting my visibility. The leash was in my left hand, and I was looking at Beckett on my left. My right foot stepped into a depression, and down I went.

Since I've been wearing an aircast all week, I've heard lots of others' stories about sprained ankles. Walking down a step, stepping out of a shoe .... it's a miracle it doesn't happen more often. Our ankles are very vulnerable, it seems!

As I twisted my ankle, I feel forward onto my left knee and hands. Eleanor fell forward in the Bjorn and started screaming; I had a heart-stopping moment of panic that her head actually smacked the sidewalk. Fortunately, she was just scared by the feeling of falling, and was unhurt.

I picked myself up and hobbled over to a few steps near the sidewalk to assess the damage. Beckett may drive me crazy in a LOT of ways, but sometimes he reminds me how he's a good dog at heart. This time, he wandered around after I dropped the leash, but stuck close by and came when I called him back over.

What was the luckiest break for all of us is that an amazingly good Samaritan saw me fall and came over from the other side of the street to make sure I was okay. She was a junior in high school and I couldn't believe how kind and helpful and compassionate she was. I was certainly not that mature in high school, I'm sure. She took Beckett and waited while I checked myself out for the extent of the damage. When I decided the ankle wasn't going to fall off if I walked the quarter-mile back home, she kept Beckett and walked him home for me, so I could concentrate just on staying upright. If it wasn't for her, I don't know how I would have made it home. You never want to be in the position where you need to lean on a stranger, but it was a wonderful feeling to know that people like her are still around .... and living close by!

I waited until Saturday morning to go to the Urgentcare, vainly hoping that it would feel all better in the morning. Of course it didn't, so Keith and Eleanor took me to the hospital because I wasn't sure if I could drive myself.

This was just another reminder that everything is different once you're a parent. On the way to the appointment, my biggest concern was that I hoped I didn't need crutches. How in the world would I manage that AND carry around Eleanor? Or get there just in the nick of time when she was about to fall/eat the dog's bone/etc.?

I laughed to myself when the doctor told me it was just a mild sprain, and I should rest and elevate the ankle for a few days and stay off it as much as I could. In my world, that means laying on the couch and icing it at 9 o'clock at night, after Eleanor is in bed. Or maybe one other time during the day, if I'm lucky.

Even with my lack of care, the ankle seems to be healing nicely. The swelling has gone down significantly and I have a lot more movement and very little pain. I'm supposed to wear the aircast continuously until tomorrow, and then I can start taking it off for short amounts of time and see how it feels.

My biggest concern going forward is that, although ankles heal, being a klutz is a permanent condition. Does this mean that I should never walk with the dog and Eleanor together again? Can I not be trusted to stay on my feet, despite distractions? If I can't do 3 things at once, then I'll never get anything done. I was so looking forward to getting out and walking more once the weather turned nice. It would be a shame if Beckett and Eleanor have to take their walks without me.