5k Fiasco

I feel the need to clarify from the beginning: For once, I am not the fiasco to which the title refers. Rather, the organization of the 5k Run Wild for a Cure event this past weekend was a mess.

Based on my 10k, I decided that a finish time between 32 and 34 minutes would be okay, and a time under 32 minutes would be fantastic. On the way to the race in the morning, I visualized myself at the start: nervous but excited. Getting off to a decent pace, a bit faster than on my usual runs, but easily maintainable. I would stay strong and keep everything in check for the first mile, leading up to the huge hill that starts Mile 2. I would power up the hill, and at the top, I'd feel a sense of accomplishment because the race was half over, the hill was behind me, and I knew I would be able to finish strong. At that point, I would pick up the pace and make the most of going back down the hill to relax my muscles but still use the momentum to pick up speed. I would tough it out through the last mile, and fly across the finish line. I pictured myself with a finish time of 31:45—just enough below my expected finish range to be exciting but possible.

I was excited and nervous at the start, so it was all going according to plan. People flew by me left and right, which I'm getting used to. I held my pace, and started passing people about 1/2 mile in. I was feeling pretty good, closing in on the one-mile mark and the uphill. I reached a fork in the road, and veered right to head towards the hill. Not everyone was going the same way, however.

It was a mess. There was a huge surge of runners, I wasn't sure if they had started the 1 mile race? Wasn't that just a walk, though? Either way, a lot of runners were charging up the initial incline and heading left and right, willy nilly. No one seemed to know where they were going, and there was a lot of shouting going on. I just held to my course, because I had run this race before and knew exactly where I was going. But I felt bad for the other runners, who had obviously been misdirected.

Then I reached the bottom of the hill. A person stood next to the one-mile marker, yelling out splits. From a few feet away, I heard her .... but I must have misunderstood. She was yelling out times that were past the 13-minute mark. That was impossible!

From my perceived rate of exertion, and my breathing, and how my legs felt ... I was expecting a time anywhere between 10 and 11 minutes. 13 was wayyy past the acceptable range. And I hadn't even gotten to the hill yet!

I was so depressed. I completely lost my motivation. I struggled up the hill, walking part of it, and then walking through the water station afterwards. A walker charged past me. A cheetah paced in her cage, seeing all us back-of-the-packer's as easy food.

I just couldn't believe I was so off in judging my pace, based on how I felt. Maybe my legs were still tired from the 10k? Maybe I didn't drink enough water that morning?

By this point, I just wanted to get the stinkin' race over with. I trudged back down the hill, doing my best to make up a little time and maybe, just maybe, finish somewhere near my goal pace.

At the bottom of the hill, a different person was calling out times. When I passed, he said it was 21 minutes and some. I thought, "Well, that would be great if that was my 2-mile time! Too bad it's just the 1-mile time for the runners/walkers going up the hill."

And then I kept running, and kept thinking about it .... and there was no Mile 2 marker. But surely I had run further than that. So maybe Mile 1 and Mile 2 were at the same point, at the bottom of the hill? And maybe I really had passed Mile 2 in 21-some minutes?!?

By this point, I didn't know what to think anymore. I knew the race was a fiasco, because I had seen other runners being misdirected. So wasn't it also possible the time-keepers were also off? And I hadn't run the first mile in over 13 minutes? I gave up trying to figure it out, and just did my best to finish strong, as per the original plan.

I came around the final curve and saw the clock at the finish line: it was just past 32 minutes. I ended up crossing the finish line at about 32:30. So definitely within the acceptable range, and so close to the fantastic goal!

For the rest of the day, I wasn't sure how to feel about the race. I was happy with my time, but so frustrated because I felt like I could definitely have done better, if they hadn't messed with my mind at the 1-mile mark. In the end, I decided to be happy with it. It was a good time, and I was lucky to at least be one of the runners who ran the whole course and finished.

And now I have a good starting point for the rest of the summer. Our next planned race is a 5k at the end of June. I hope to be under the 30-minute mark for that one. And I hope the organizers do a better job of running the race!

A True Gapesnest

Earlier this week, I wanted to get a run in. But now I always feel guilty if I take Eleanor out in the jogging stroller. Beckett gets so excited when he sees me lace up my running shoes ... and then so crestfallen when Eleanor and I leave and lock him in the house behind us.

So I decided, what the heck? I might as well try taking both of them and see what happens. I don't need to get a run in today, so if it doesn't go well, I'll just turn around and head back home.

It was a multi-step process to get on the road. First, I let Beckett out into the backyard and tossed his leash and harness by the gate. Then I put Eleanor in the pack n' play while I steered the jogging stroller outside and down the steps. Next I locked the back door, strapped Eleanor into the jogging stroller, and wrangled the dog into his harness.

Then I had to decide what to do with the leash. I figured me carrying it was out, because there was a good chance of getting an arm ripped off because I'm holding onto the stroller with one hand, and Beckett takes off in the opposite direction after a squirrel, taking my leash arm with him. In the end, I looped it around the stroller frame, near the front wheel.

Overall, it went much better than I expected. There were times when Beckett got distracted, and tried to cross over in front of the stroller to the other side, which necessitated a lot of "Beckett! Get back here! .... No, over here!" and detangling of leash and wheel. But it didn't happen as often as I had thought it would.

There were also times when we were just jogging along, Beckett in front, the jogging stroller a foot or so behind, and me with one hand on the jogging stroller. It was a beautiful thing.

At least, that's what I thought. The looks I got from passersby and lunching construction workers or landscapers, though, were a bit more incredulous. So that's what it feels like to be a Gapesnest! And I loved every minute of it.

10k Playlist

Here's the playlist that was on my iPod for the 10k run last weekend. I know a lot of people prefer to run races without the iPod (not to mention it's actually against the rules for many races). For the 5k this weekend, I'll probably forgo the headphones. But I usually run with music, and I was pretty intimidated before the 10k, so I felt like I needed all the extra motivation I could get to keep going. And these songs did it for me!

Short Skirt/Long Jacket by Cake
A Peak You Reach by Badly Drawn Boy
Sex On Fire by Kings of Leon
PJ & Rooster by OutKast
All These Things That I've Done by The Killers
Basement Bhangra Anthem by DJ Rekha
Sons & Daughters by The Decemberists
Elenore by The Turtles
Ping One Down by Gomez
Super Bon Bon by Soul Coughing
Ghetto Rock by Mos Def
The Underdog by Spoon
Viva La Vida by Coldplay
Idlewild Blue (Don'tchu Worry 'Bout Me) by OutKast
Airstream Driver by Gomez
Strange Times by The Black Keys
Could Be So Happy by Heartless Bastards
The Rockafeller Skank by Fatboy Slim
Baby's Got Sauce by G. Love and the Special Sauce

All links to purchase the songs at Lala. I think that you can listen to any song free, once, at Lala. So if you're interested, check them out!

I just looked, and I also posted my playlist from when I ran the Flying Pig 10k in 2007. Many of the songs are repeats. I guess if they work, they work!

10k Success!

Sorry it took me awhile to post this; I'm not lying by the side of the race course, I swear! It's just been busy, as always.

The 10k on Saturday went really well. I felt great throughout the race. At the beginning, I felt like people were flying by me, left and right, but I also knew that if I tried to pick up my pace, I would fade out really early. So I held on, and by about mile 2.5, I started slowly passing many of the people that had flown by earlier.

My plan all along was to plod along at an easy pace until mile 4. At that point, most of the race—including the bridges—would be behind me. Plus a lot of the last mile would be downhill. So if I still had a lot of energy after mile 4, I felt pretty secure in kicking it up a notch for the final stretch.

It went pretty much according to plan, except there wasn't a whole lot of gas left in the tank after mile 4. I tried to increase my pace a bit, but my legs were pretty tired. The final bridge (of 3) really did me in. I figured I would finish in about 72-74 minutes. Anything under that range was good, and anything in the 60s, I would be ecstatic.

In the end, I finished at 70 minutes, 22 seconds, with an average pace of 11:21 min/mile. I was right in the middle of the pack, being 96 of 187 in my division (females aged 30-34). It was kinda difficult to acknowledge how much my pace has slowed, since my last race pace was 9:17/mile for a 5-miler. But then again, since that race, it's been a year and a half of little running, plus gaining weight ... oh! and having a baby.

So overall, I'm pleased with the race. I did it, I finished it, and now I know where I'm at. For the rest of the summer races, I have a starting point and can keep improving from here.

Starting with the 5k Run Wild for a Cure that is only a few days away! According to a Race Time Predictor, I should be able to run a 5k in 34:07, which is a pace of 10:59 min/mile. I think I should be able to beat that, though, knowing the Flying Pig 10k course versus the Run Wild for a Cure course. I guess I'll find out soon enough!

Either way, I'm just very excited to be running again. Setting running goals, training (if somewhat sporadically), and feeling like an active person. Thanks for all the good wishes in my race this past weekend— they will also be welcome for my race at 8:30am Eastern time, this coming Saturday! :)

Wish Me Luck!

By the time you read this, hopefully my race will be all over and I will be enjoying the rest of the weekend.

But if you're reading this between 8:00am and 9:00ish, Eastern Time ... send good thoughts my way!

An April Retrospective

Keeping a blog is so useful/narcissistic because I can always just look back through old entries to see what I was doing at this point in years past. I guess you could do that with hard copy journals, too. But first you would have to find your journals. And then you'd have to find the right one. But I'd probably get sidetracked, reading about my 8th grade crush or the soccer game my junior year of high school, and never get around to what I was originally looking for.


At the end of April 2oo6, we had just moved from Cincinnati up to Cleveland. We were living with my parents for a few months, until we could move into our house at the end of June. This was a good time for me, blog-wise, because I was unemployed. I was reading lots of books and doing crossword puzzles. Those were the days!

April 2007, apparently, I had much less time on my hands. I gave a shout-out to Shakespeare on his birthday, briefly philosophized about getting stopped at red lights, and dedicated a lengthy entry to i can has cheezburger.

Predictably, the end of April 2008 was all about the baby. There were some belly pics, and yet another reason to expect that Little L would turn out to be a boy. (Ha!) I was also complaining about the fact that maternity pants don't have pockets.

This year, I think the end of April shows that I'm obsessed with running and getting back in shape. And Eleanor. From this point forward, always Eleanor!

Telling Time Geographically

When you move around as much as Keith and I have, you remember when events happened by what particular abode/city you were in at the time.

September 11? I had just interviewed for my job in Dayton, and was staying with Keith and his parents in Northern Kentucky. But I was actually still living with my parents on the west side of Cleveland.

When did Gomez's album "In Our Gun" come out? I remember getting it shipped to my apartment in Dayton, and sitting on the living room floor, enraptured. So it must have been between Fall 2001 and Winter/Spring 2002.

When did Elaine come from Scotland to visit? It was summer, and we were living in Cincinnati at the time, since we rented a car and drove to Cleveland, to pick her up in Toronto, back to Cleveland, then to Niagara Falls, back to Toronto, and back to to Cinci via Detroit. Lots of driving—a true American vacation! So that must have been Summer 2005.

Now we've been in our house for nearly 3 years, it's getting harder to remember when things happened. It's all blending together. Except I suppose it will change from "Where did we live?" to "What was Eleanor doing?" If she was crawling but not yet walking, it must have been Winter/Spring 2009. So that would be .... telling time Babe-ily?

Our Landscape Architect

We have many, many ideas of what we want to do as far as landscaping. And this time of year my mind always starts thinking up elaborate plans for front and back flower beds, a vegetable garden, fragrant herbs around the deck .... so many possibilities!

Unfortunately, our landscaping budget doesn't match our aspirations. Nor does our free time, actually. This means that, since Eleanor's birth, Beckett has been in charge of the backyard landscaping.

His vision involves lots of mud and dirt. No plants, and very little grass. The picture of him is from about a month after we moved in, when there was still grass. I'll have to take a picture now and you can see the changes. There's a big bald patch right next to the back porch, where he launches himself off, in hot pursuit of squirrels and rabbits. Then there's the dirt patrol path that winds around the perimeter fence, as well as curves next to the garden you see in the picture, on the side of the garage.

I'm just happy that we are finally cleaning up the mess the roofing and window contractors made last summer and fall. I've cleaned up bits of old roof, insulation, a 2-foot section of gutter, and a plethora of nails, all from the plants and garden beds around the house. I'm getting the sense that, this summer, the goal will be just to get the yard to "blank slate" status. Then, maybe next year, we can think about adding in some actual landscaping.

Countdown to Meltdown

Okay, so I'm starting to freak out a little bit. Am I really signed up for a 10k on Saturday? Is there any way that I could possibly be ready to race 6.2 miles?

I mean, I'm not really "racing." I don't have a specific time goal in mind that I have to reach. I just have to finish. But .... I haven't been in a race since November 2007. That's a long time, my friends. As the day approaches, I'm feeling pretty intimidated. What, exactly, made me think this was a good idea?

I'm really, REALLY looking forward to Saturday afternoon. Once it's over, I survived, and I can just hang out and enjoy Eleanor's first-ever race: a 15-foot Diaper Dash. As Keith and Emily get more tense and excited about the marathon, I will be breathing a sigh of relief.

Assuming I'm still vertical and breathing, that is.

They Grow So Fast! (9 months)

Motivation

Since my birthday at the beginning of April, I've been trying much more diligently to work on eating better, working out, and finally losing the baby weight. Motivation is a funny thing, though. I'm motivated to lose 30 pounds in the long term. Yet, I have a hard time always remembering how that long-term goal applies to the doughnuts that someone brought into work that morning, or ordering pizza for dinner on a Friday night. It's just one meal, right? That turns into a Coke, or another missed workout ....

So I've been trying to come up with ways to trick myself into short-term motivation. One of those required Keith's help. I asked him to come up with surprise treats for me with every 5 pounds I lose. I didn't want it to be anything that would break the bank, but something that I wouldn't normally do for myself.

A few weeks ago, I passed the first 5-lb mark and Keith fanned out slips of paper in front of my face.

"Pick one," he said gleefully. "But only one!" For some reason, I think he enjoys keeping these secret from me.

I chose a slip that said I could buy a new album.

I was excited, but undecided. What album should I get? I don't buy new music very often, so it was a big decision. When I was running over the weekend, I thought about how I wanted the album to give me more motivation to keep it up. So I wanted something upbeat and high energy that would make me want to work out. I couldn't decide what, though.

Then, a few days ago, for some reason Keith brought up the movie Idlewild that we had DVR'd recently. It starred Big Boi and Andre 3000 from Outkast, and the music was an interesting, catchy blend of rap and hip hop with Prohibition-era songs, which is the time period where the movie takes place. I enjoyed the movie and loved the music, so it was perfect!

I triumphantly announced my decision, and Keith ran into the living room, to download the MP3s from LaLa. Since then, we both have been enjoying the album (which has 26 songs for only $10! A steal!). I can't wait to put some songs from it on my iPod for my run this weekend.

I'm also closing in on another reward. I'm still not perfect, but having these mysteries out there to tantalize me along the way does seem to help. I wonder what the next one will be ....

Like Catching the Mafia on the Run

I hope I'm not being overambitious, but after waffling for a few weeks, I finally signed up for the Run Wild for a Cure 5k the weekend after the Flying Pig 10k.

To have your registration materials mailed and avoid the registration table melee at the event (which was a nightmare the other year we did this race), you had to sign up by midnight tonight, so that made up my mind for me. As I was filling out their online form, I got to the Additional Information section. The first few questions were typical enough (Runner or Walker? How'd you hear about us? Do you plan on using your own personal timing chip?) and then the 4th question was a shock. It was actually a statement with three options:
I have entered the CORRECT INFORMATION for this individual:*
Yes, it is All Correct
Yes, Except for the Email (It is not correct for this individual)
No, Most or All is Incorrect

Really? Is it that much of a problem that people knowingly fill out the forms with completely incorrect information, and then admit they do?!? It reminds me of hearing about how mob guys were always caught on tax evasion, because there was some checkbox or something on their taxes that said something along the lines of "I have no other source of income." And then when their "side business" came to light, even if they couldn't be prosecuted for nefarious dealings, they got nailed on tax evasion.

Not really sure how that applies to registering for a 5k, though .....

Sound the Alarm! And Get Out the Plates

What does it say about my cooking that, since we've been making an effort to order in less (because we never actually ate out, anyway!), the smoke alarm next to the kitchen has unexpectedly died?!?

It went off during dinner preparations the other day, but it was the saddest, tiniest sound. Not very alarming. More sounding the death knell to my culinary aspirations.

The Joys of Sleeping In?

Last weekend, for the first time since July 20, 2008, I got to sleep in.

Immediately after Eleanor was born, there was not much sleeping to be done by anyone. In the middle of the night, when we awoke bleary-eyed for a feeding and would wake up Eleanor, she would start screaming her adorable little head off. Beckett would sometimes just lift his head balefully and stare at us, wondering why we had to go and change things when they were so nice before. Often he would sigh and head down to the living room for some shut-eye.

When she was 6 weeks old, I remember thinking to myself that it had been 6 weeks since I'd slept more than 4 hours in one stretch. But by the third month, Eleanor was sleeping pretty well throughout the night. I was starting to remember what it felt like to be a normal, rested human being. But I was breastfeeding, so I was still always the one to get up for her first feeding of the day.

Well, that was the state of things until the beginning of April, when we finished breastfeeding. But Keith still gets up early every Saturday to get his long run out of the way and get back home by mid-morning. So I didn't immediately want to make him get up early both days on the weekend—once for his long run and once for Eleanor—after going to work all week. I thought we'd wait until after the marathon to discuss our weekend routine.

But he offered to let me sleep in last Sunday, so I wasn't going to say "no"! It was Easter Sunday and we had to be to the other side of town by 12, so there was a limit on the sleeping-in to be done. Strangely, though, that proved to be irrelevant, because I couldn't do it.

Eleanor woke up about 7 o'clock, and Keith went downstairs to get the bottle while I stretched and luxuriated in being able to roll over and snuggle back under the covers as he went about the business of getting her out of the crib, changing her diaper, feeding her, etc. Except I couldn't go back to sleep.

I kept listening to them. The morning is such a wonderful time; she is so excited to be awake for another day. She eats and happily plays ... I really like spending the morning with her. Snatches of laughter, baby babble, and Keith's deeper voice drifted upstairs to me. I was missing out!

I think I managed to stay in bed maybe an hour or so after Keith and Eleanor got up? I tossed and turned for awhile, sometimes lightly sleeping. Then I sat up and finished reading the novel I had started the day before. (That was much more enjoyable than trying—and failing—to sleep.) When I finished the book, I stretched, flung off the covers, and hurried downstairs to get in some quality play time with Keith and Eleanor.

It makes me wonder. Will I ever enjoy sleeping in again? Maybe when Eleanor is a teenager, and she is sleeping in, too? I was so excited to finally have the opportunity to do it ... and it just felt weird.

On the other hand, I can definitely see Keith taking Eleanor on his weekend runs if they are only 6 miles or so. The two of them could get up, have breakfast, and head out for a run. Meanwhile, I could sleep in peace, have a leisurely breakfast, and be able to enjoy the stillness of a household at rest. Plus, that way Keith could also have a weekend day to sleep in. Everyone wins!

Treasure Hunt

Looking for necklaces is starting to turn into a treasure hunt. Eleanor is a little magpie, very interested in bright, shiny objects. She loves to rip my glasses right off my face when I'm not paying close enough attention. Adorable!

Luckily, I don't have pierced ears, so that's not a concern. But I do like to wear necklaces, and that's an issue. I've pretty much given up wearing them on a regular basis around the house, but I like to wear them to work. Remind myself what it was like to get up in the morning and choose a complete outfit, from shoes to accessories, take time to do my hair, eat breakfast .... but now all in the space of 10 minutes. Because these days Eleanor has a sixth sense that alerts her when I'm out of bed. I sneak out and down the hall to wash my face, brush my teeth .... and she starts crying for attention.

But I digress. I wore a necklace last Sunday, when we went to my parents' side of town for Easter. I also wore one on Tuesday when I was at work all day. Today I wore the silver one with a delicate turquoise shell hanging from it. As soon as I got home and held Eleanor, she started playing with it, entranced.

After a few minutes, when I was afraid she'd break (which has also happened to at least one necklace) I took it off and hung it on a kitchen cupboard door handle to keep it out of the way. There was already one hanging there. I think maybe it was the one I wore on Easter Sunday and must have taken off? I'm not sure. But my Mom was out for a visit today, so I'm guessing that's what happened.

That also reminded me that Tuesday's necklace ended up tossed into a large handbag in the dining room to avoid destruction at the hands of the baby. That bag is now on the floor of my closet. Which I can remember today, and probably will tomorrow .... but what about when I forget to retrieve the necklace in a timely manner. By next Thursday, will I remember that it's in the bag? Chances are slim.

But I suppose someday I'll go to use the bag, and find the necklace hiding in the bottom of it. And I'll be so excited to find it ... it will be like a new piece of jewelry all over again. I guess that's one way to keep down your personal spending; just keep losing and rediscovering your old jewelry/clothes/books over and over again!

This Way Jogging Also Tones My Arms

This afternoon, I took Eleanor out in the jogging stroller for the second time ever. My plan was, starting at the end of March, to run with her while I'm home during the day on Wednesdays and Fridays, so I'm all done by the time Keith gets home from work. The weather hasn't cooperated.

I think it will be convenient, once I can actually start relying on the temperature to be above 50 with no more snow or torrential rains. I mean, rain is always possible, but maybe a little less likely starting in May. Of course, the problem is that my 10k is May 2, so I'm running out of time.

But no use crying over missed runs. I did it today, and it went well. Man, pushing that jogging stroller is quite a workout! My legs felt tired by the end of the street. I decided to turn it into a quasi-intervals workout, because I knew I would end up walking at points anyway. I did 3 miles in all, and spent the middle part of it trying to push myself for a minute or so, and then taking a walk break.

Until today, my goal has just been to plod along and get my miles in. Today it felt good to remember, at least a little bit, what it was like to go a bit faster than tortoise pace.

I feel good about the 10k. I did a 5-mile run last Saturday, and my plan is to go 6 miles this weekend. If I can do that, I'm in good shape! No promises about my time, but that was never the point. It was just getting out there and doing it.

Meanwhile, Eleanor loves it. I barely hear a peep from her. But when I occasionally stop and check in on her, I get a big smile. She's just taking it all in. And my arms should start looking more toned after a few more runs! All the side benefits ;)

Packing Jars of Baby Food for College

This face pretty accurately describes Eleanor's feelings about solid foods. Not a fan.

I had read in a pamphlet from our pediatrician that, by 9 months, some babies will be eating all finger foods, some will be eating all baby food, but most will be eating a mix. Eleanor will turn 9 months in a week, and at this point she's squarely in the baby food camp.

We've tried mashing banana, making homemade sweet potatoes and green beans, giving her commercial first foods by Gerber and Cheerios, even offering "adult" food like spaghetti and macaroni noodles and mashed potatoes .... all for naught. It's That Face every time.

Should I be trying harder? Or should I just continue trying every once in awhile, and trust that she'll get around to it at some point? I'm surprised because she was so willing to try baby food, I thought it would be a smooth transition to solids. That Face says otherwise, however!

Recycling Electronics

There's many, many items in our modern lives that don't belong in a landfill, but I don't know what to do with them. So it's either throw them out or hang onto them, and stockpile random, useless crap.

Or, I can try and find out alternative methods of disposal.

Previously, I had mentioned what to do with worn-out clothes. Just this week, I also happened across an article on Wired.com called "Reduce, Reuse, Recycle Your Old Gadgets." From computers to air conditioners to TVs and monitors, they give suggestions on how to get rid of everything. If you're married to a computer guy (and/or you are a techie yourself), this is very helpful advice!

Part-time Work = Full-time Stress?

Since coming back from maternity leave in mid-October, I've slowly been transitioning to working part-time in the office. Through December I worked 15 hrs/week from home, mostly evenings and weekends. Then in January, Eleanor started taking a bottle and I switched to 20 hrs/week. At that point, I started working 12 hrs/week in the office during office hours and 8 hrs/week from home, whenever I could fit in those hours.

But since the end of February, I've been working all 20 of my hours in the office. And it has been quite an adjustment. I thought it would be less stressful. It was really hard to be fitting in my hours at home. I would feel like I need to get up early so that I could work before Eleanor woke up. Every time Eleanor went down for a nap, I would be frozen with indecision. Do I try and clean up a bit around the house? Put in some laundry? Or get some work hours in? Plus it could be hard to get larger projects done, when I could only commit to working 15 minutes or so at a time. If I was lucky, it would be an hour or more .... but I could never count on it.

So I was looking forward to working all my hours in the office, and being able to enjoy just being home when I was home. No more carting home my computer and piles of paperwork. Work that I wouldn't have even been able to finish in the same amount of time at the office, much less with my fractured work schedule at home. I thought it would make life simpler.

But I was a little sad, too. I was committing to being away from Eleanor for more than 20 hours a week, once you added in commuting time. It helped that my younger sister is watching her the majority of the time, so at least I know she's in good hands. But it's still hard to leave in the morning when she realizes what's going on and she starts wailing.

At the same time, the days that we have together are more precious because of their scarcity. I'm a little more willing to let the to-do list wait and play with Eleanor now, because I know I won't have that time tomorrow. Being away makes me appreciate my time at home more.

I'm getting the feeling that, like many things, I won't know if I've made the right decision until months or years from now. Was going back to work the right choice? Should I have stayed home? Before Eleanor, I thought juggling work and home was difficult, but I had no idea!

Running Goal: 10k in May

Well, the gauntlet has been thrown. This past weekend I did get registered for the Flying Pig 10k, which is the day before Keith's marathon (early May). I hope I'm ready!

I did do a 4-mile run last Sunday, which gives me hope. My goal is to run 3 times a week throughout April, including 5 miles this coming Sunday, then 6 miles the Sunday after that. If I can manage that, I'll know I'm ready!

If it would just stop snowing here, that would help with the likelihood of me actually getting out to run.

Best-case scenario: I also do the 5k Run Wild for a Cure in Cleveland the following weekend, which benefits the United Mitochondrial Disease Foundation—a cause that is very important to me. In some ways I'm more nervous about that race, though, because Keith's work friend is planning on running it. He's just started running recently, and is hoping to run a 10-minute/mile pace.

I don't have any kind of pace goal for the 10k. I just want to finish. I think there's a better than 98% chance that I run slower than 10min/mile for that one. But now that I have some personal competition for the 5k (even though I've only met him once), I would really like to be able to keep up or even beat him ..... but maybe I should just focus on getting my miles in, for now. That's challenge enough.

Rock Climbing

Thanks to our friend Emily's suggestion, we went rock climbing on Friday night with her and Stephen and Stephen's rock-climbing buddies. Well, to be honest .... the experts (Stephen and co.) actually climbed. The novices (me, Keith, and Emily) just messed around. But it was fun!

Emily directed us to the Cleveland Rock Gym, which is an old warehouse that has been converted into climbing walls ranging from 10-feet to 30-feet tall. We chose not to get harnessed up and tackle the 30-foot walls. Instead, they had an option to just "Boulder" which meant climbing the smaller walls or staying below a certain height on the higher walls, so we didn't have to get harnessed and belayed. (Can you "get belayed"? Not really sure of the verbiage there ....)

We did rent climbing shoes. As the worker is pulling out our appropriate sizes, he did warn us "These shoes should be tight enough to hurt." And they were! Not just uncomfortable, but seriously painful. They are very thin, and the bottom is made of smooth rubber. Somehow the shoes curl your toes under—I'm assuming for better grippy-ness on the rocks. I couldn't keep them on the whole time; I had to give my feet a break in the middle. As Stephen says, "I feel like a ballerina!" Except, not graceful. At all.

I was really intimidated to start. I felt like everyone else knew what they were doing, and I was just this wimpy, out-of-shape former runner who didn't know the first thing about climbing. I imagined myself falling off the walls in many horrible, contorted positions. I'm really glad we had Emily there to give us some pointers.

She explained that they create different routes on the walls, which are marked by colored tape and given a point value. For example, the red-tape route (which usually has a more colorful name like "Cherry Bomb") could be worth 100 points, which is the easiest. The more points, the higher level of difficulty.

To start, Emily climbed a medium-difficulty route. Then Keith tried it and got probably 3/4s of the way before jumping off the wall because he couldn't figure out where to go next. I only made it halfway, if that. For us, it was much more than medium difficulty.

Eventually, I fell into a groove. First of all, I stopped trying to follow routes and just climbed the easiest way possible, using every hand- and foothold available. Stephen also gave us some climbing advice ("Use your legs! Try the mantle grip!" and other things we couldn't decipher). We also sat around and watched the experienced climbers, marveling at how they moved their bodies up and sideways. I especially liked seeing someone arrested in mid-climb as she contemplated her next move. Kind of like chess, but with your LIFE. (If it weren't for the harnesses and all.)

Towards the end, we focused on the easiest wall in the place, and one of the easiest routes on the wall. We tried over and over again to figure out how to finish that one route. Keith and Emily both did; I never managed it without cheating. And after a few hours, my arms weren't even capable of hauling me up to the top of the 10-feet wall, no matter how many ways I cheated. It was time to call it a night.

I think, overall, it was a really great experience of getting outside my comfort zone. At the beginning of the evening, I thought it was a HORRIBLE idea. We were going to die horrible deaths, or at the very least be painfully maimed. And why? WHY? Just for fun.

But by the end, I was enjoying myself. I liked being sore the next day. I'm still thinking about that one route, and how the heck I could manage to finish it without cheating. I'd like to go back and give it another try. Hopefully before my next birthday!

Is It Really That Hard? Carpet Cleaner

Lately, I've been spending a LOT more time than I would like (because any time is too much), on my hands and knees, scrubbing the carpet after another one of Beckett's messes. He's not very happy that I'm actually getting out of the house more now that the weather is nicer. Nor is he enamored of the fact that he's on a leash until the backyard gate is fixed and Houdini-proof.

So he poops on the carpet or digs up houseplants .... just whatever way he can show his displeasure with the humans. In a passive/aggressive doggy kind of way.

But anyway, here's my point: I'm trying to spray the carpet cleaner down onto a specific spot on the carpet. And it keeps clogging. It only works if you point it directly out in front of you; it doesn't work if you're pointing down. BUT IT'S CARPET CLEANER. Isn't "down" the whole point?!?

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday to me! I'm not just 30 anymore. I'm "in my early 30s." It feels so much older. Of course, that might also have something to do with the fact that I'm no longer merely pregnant, but a Mom.

We are getting together with my family tonight, but Keith and I don't have specific plans yet to celebrate on our own. My older sister is watching Eleanor on Friday night so we can go out .... but I have no idea what to do. I don't want to just go out to eat. I want to focus to be on something other than food. I want to DO something. I thought about ice-skating, but I'm done with winter. It needs to be an activity that either isn't tied to any particular season or, if it is, it speaks of sunshine and warmth.

Any suggestions?

Not Over-Eager, Yet Interested

Keith and I have been meeting a lot of new people since Eleanor was born. It's hard sometimes to strike the right balance between not seeming desperate and over eager to strike up a friendship, but yet interested enough to pursue becoming more than just acquaintances.

Once, in December, I apparently failed to strike the right balance. I had met another new mom at the breastfeeding support group. She seemed really nice and we had a lot in common .... we had even emailed back and forth a few times about breastfeeding-related stuff. But then I casually mentioned in an email (it was very "breezy," if you remember the Friends episode) that we should get together sometime outside of the group. I never heard from her again.

But things were looking a bit more hopeful for my mom and baby yoga group. I really like the instructor, and one other mom has joined the group who's baby girl was born just 2 days before Eleanor. A few weeks ago, the instructor suggested that we all meet at the zoo sometime, since we had been talking about going and having passes, etc.

Today was that day. Except, it didn't go according to plan at all. The instructor left me a voicemail a few days ago saying she couldn't make it after all. She didn't have the other mom's phone number handy, but she would give mine to the other mom, so Mom #2 could call me and we could discuss if we still wanted to go or what.

Well, I never heard from her and I had no way of contacting her. We were supposed to meet at the zoo at noon today. Finally, at 9 o'clock this morning, I called the instructor and told her I'd never heard anything so I didn't know what was going on. Or rather, I told her voicemail. At that point, I wrote the whole thing off. The instructor had cancelled, the other mom hadn't called me, and it was pouring down rain. Obviously, it wasn't meant to be.

At 11:40, the instructor calls me back. Apparently, she never got a hold of Mom #2 to say that she couldn't go. So all this time, Mom #2 thought everything was good, we were all meeting as planned. And apparently, the only way the instructor did finally talk to Mom #2 is because Mom #2 called the instructor to say she was running 5-10 minutes late.

So, it's 11:40. It takes me at least a half-hour to get to the zoo, if I were ready to walk out the door. Which I wasn't at all. But Mom #2 was already en route, the instructor wasn't going ... so I had to go, right?

I threw baby stuff into the diaper bag. Diapers, change of clothes, bottle, food, sunhat, sunblock ... anything I could possibly need or want. I put in my contacts so I could wear my sunglasses (since by this time it had turned into a gorgeous, sunny day) and forgot to bring my sunglasses. And off Eleanor and I went.

In the end, it turned out really well. Mom #2 was very nice, and very understanding. We chatted easily about babies and life and babies.

And she was the one who said we should do it again sometime, so hopefully that means I struck the right note between over-eager and interested.

Habit Breaking

I've been wondering a lot lately why I haven't been blogging. It seems that it's an easier habit to break than I thought.

I don't stop thinking about the blog. Getting a spark of an idea, partially composing the entry in my head. Considering what would be the hook, how to flesh it out, what would be a satisfying ending. If I had only written half of the blog entries I've come up with over the past few months, this would be my most prolific year ever!

But I don't. I think the problem actually isn't my new parent status. I think it's that I've been pressuring myself lately to make my blogs less of a diary and more actual compositions. I started this blog as a way to improve my writing. Hopefully not just by writing more often, but also by writing better. Taking the time to actually revise and craft stories.

Writing stories that would get me one step better to actually getting paid to publish. Moving toward the kind of well-crafted essays that people read and completely identify with. My experiences, but with the universal marrow exposed, so everyone feels the emotions mirrored in their own lives.

But here I am. With a piddly number of posts. So instead of working on becoming a better writer, I've not been writing at all.

We're going to back to Plan A. I'm going to stop worrying so much about crafting fantastic, memorable, marrow-filled blog entries and just write.

Cinderella Shoes

The other day we went to a St. Patrick's Day potluck dinner. It was a very nice dinner, with good people and delicious food, but this story has nothing to do with all that.

Our hostess, Emily, complimented me on my shoes.

"Oh, there's a story behind these shoes," I laughed.

They are gorgeous shoes. Silver and beaded, they are shaped like a ballerina flat, but with a very small heel that makes a satisfying "click" whenever I walk in them. Wearing these shoes makes me feel a little taller, a little thinner, and a lot more confident.

It was May 2005. I was working at a job I hated, for a boss I couldn't stand. I would end up quitting in November, although the fact it took me that long is only a testament to my stubbornness, even in the face of complete misery.

But in May, I was still trying to make it work. I flew to Seattle for this big conference, where a web project I'd been working my fingers to the boneon was being unveiled. After the conference, I was going to hop on a plane for Boston, for one of my best friend's bachelorette party. I felt like a jet-setting career woman. I could have been an extra on "Sex and the City."

It should have been great! Instead, despite all of my efforts, the big project was still only limping along with poor usability. And the parts that did work? My loathsome boss took all the credit for, after doing little of the actual work. I was inside this huge conference center all day long, with barely any time for sightseeing. My two cohorts, who were in the boss's good graces, managed to slip off for more of the day for shopping, eating, etc.

By the final day in Seattle, I'd had enough. I took a short lunch break and ran out to a large department store nearby. I was going to find a souvenir, dammit. An extravagant purchase that I would never make back home. Something good would come of this trip!

I had to decide quickly. Time was of the essence, and there would be no time for waffling. And then, cruising around the first floor shoe department, I saw them. With almost a toothpaste commercial gleam to their slightly upturned toes. I grabbed a salesman, asked him to bring the two most likely sizes, tried them on and bought a pair.

I ran back to the hotel, threw the bag on the bed, and was back at the conference booth in time to hear my boss patting herself on the back once again for all of her hard work. But this time, it didn't bother me so much. The conference was nearly over, I would soon be headed across the country for a weekend of light-hearted revelry, and I had a fabulous new pair of shoes.

Of course, the trip to Boston was not smooth-sailing. There was a mix-up about whether I was getting into town on my own, or if someone was coming to pick me up. I found out I was expected to get there myself and got directions for public transport ... which were wrong.

After waiting a half-hour for the wrong bus, I found the right bus, which took me to the train, which took me to a stop a short walk from my destination. I was weighed down by a significant amount of luggage, particularly one large suitcase of work clothes that were, at this point, useless to me. That case, of course, got stuck in the turnstyle while leaving the train station, and I ended up twisting the handle to get it out, thereby making later retraction of the handle impossible.

But I got to the apartment. The one-bedroom apartment which would be housing over 10 women that weekend. I shoved my bags into one corner of the living room and pulled out my new shoes. It was time to break them in!

The bachelorette party weekend turned out to be fun and frustrating in equal measures. It was fantastic to see everyone—most of whom I hadn't seen in months. But it was Boston, and everything was expensive, and people always decide to just "split the check evenly" for the sake of ease, when you didn't order 2 glasses of wine and an appetizer, unlike some .... I insisted on wearing the shoes most of the weekend, even after they gave me blisters the first night when traipsing from dinner to club to another club back to the apartment.

When leaving the apartment for that first dinner, we passed another building resident out front. She stared at my mesmerizing shoes, turning to continue watching as we walked away.

"I love your shoes!" she called. "Where did you get them?"

I smiled. "Seattle!"

So whenever I wear those shoes, and particularly when I get compliments on them (which happens often), it makes me smile. To me, the shoes signify finding the silver lining and retaining the good memories long after the annoyance of the bad ones fades. I quit that horrible job and the awful boss is just a distant memory. The credit card statement for the financially disastrous Boston trip is long ago paid and filed. But the friendships and the shoes live on!

* Image courtesy of Charmed Silver Shoes.

Also Consider It At Full Volume

Maybe you already know this. But when you're picking a name for a dog or a cat, I would suggest narrowing it down to your last few choices. Then get outside. Walk for at least 20 minutes, hollering the names at the top of your voice every few houses. Then see if you still like your chosen names.

Beckett escaped again last week. We'd had a carpenter out, installing handrails on our outside steps. He also tightened the screws on the gate and added a few more pieces of wood near the latch. "This will be like Fort Knox," he confidently told me, showing off his handiwork. "Your dog won't be able to escape without breaking the whole gate, and that's just not going to happen."

We let him have the run of the yard. Since it was actually a balmy day, we stayed outside for 10 or 15 minutes to make sure he didn't engage in any funny business. The carpenter left, and Keith and I went back inside to feed Eleanor and make dinner.

A while later, we realized we had left Beckett out in the yard. Except, of course, he wasn't. And was no where to be seen, so clearly he had been gone quite some time and had made good his escape. I was hoping to go for a run anyway, so I got changed and jogged off down the street.

"Beckett!" I called. "Beeeeckett!"

But calling out a name into the great wide open has a way of changing it. Unconsciously I started elongating the vowels to make the name last as long as possible, in the hopes that Beckett might catch the last syllable on a breeze and come running into my arms.

By the end of our road I was yelling, "Behhhhy-kit!" I felt like I had moved hundreds of miles South. The name sounded so strange coming out of my mouth, yet I was powerless to stop it.

A few times, I ran into walkers or joggers and asked them, in a conversational tone, to keep an eye out for a small black and white dog that is also the spawn of Satan. With brown eyes. Once, they asked what the dog's name was. "Beckett," I replied, but saying his name normally had become strange.

He did get found. On the plus side, we've met a lot of neighbors through his escapades. But if he keeps escaping, I'm renaming him John.

A Personal Care Trifecta

Since Eleanor was born, certain things have fallen to the wayside. In the first few weeks, everything except feeding Eleanor, sleeping, and occasionally scarfing down some food was too much work. By the holidays, I was actually starting to respond to email on a regular basis and getting dressed and out of the house at least once a week.

However, there were three big things that I needed to accomplish:

1. Get a dental check-up and cleaning
2. Get an eye exam and new contacts
3. Get my hair cut.

In mid-January, once we actually found a nanny for Eleanor, these dreams actually became a reality. First was the eye doctor appointment, then the dentist. Finally, a few weeks ago, I got my hair trimmed for the first time in longer than I care to admit.

It was a good feeling, to finally have achieved these lofty goals. Now I can go out in public with clean teeth, trimmed hair, and able to see more than 2 feet in front of my face. Who knows what I can achieve next?!?

WASP-Approved

"White people do love the Home and Garden Show!"

A few weeks ago we were at my older sister's apartment. The radio was playing in the background as I went to the dining room to grab more food. (She's a great cook!) I was in the middle of dishing up more of the sausage stromboli, seasoned with garlic and fresh herbs, when a commercial for the local exposition center came on. It filtered through slowly, I realized belatedly that I heard,

"White people do love the Home and Garden Show!"

I couldn't believe the advertisers had been so straightforward about their target market! It was a bold and pretty offensive move.

Of course, the end of the story is much more bland. After listening a little longer, I realized the announcer had actually said, "Why do people love the Home and Garden Show?"

My question now is: What people, exactly? Is the Home and Garden Show equally appealing to all demographics?

It's a Date

Keith and I actually went out for Valentine's Day. It's pretty amazing, considering we didn't even really go on our first post-baby "date" until early December, when Eleanor was more than 5 months old. Then we went again at the end of January, when Keith's parents were visiting. And somehow we went out again 2 weeks later?!? If we're not careful, we might get used to hanging out, sans Eleanor, once a month or so.

When my older sister first offered to babysit for us in February, the possibilities seemed endless. Once we realized it would be on Valentine's Day, however, we immediately crossed dinner and a movie off our list. Or any other activity that could be construed as romantic in nature.

But in actuality, it took me a really long time to think of a few activities we might enjoy. It's so hard to think of regular, adult activities. I can't help myself from wondering, "How will I cart around a baby there? Will I have a place to change diapers? What about when it's naptime?"

Eventually, I settled on a winter sporting theme. The finalists were: a toboggan run, ice skating, or cross-country skiing. It all depended on the weather (lots of snow? cross-country skiing; pretty warm and sunny? tobogganing; frigid? indoor ice skating rink) and our mood that day.

It turned out to be a pretty nice day. Not too much snow, but a light dusting, some sun, and a temperature in the 30s. So we ended up ..... at the Western Reserve Historical Society Museum. Of course! Keith had run 18 miles that morning, and wasn't exactly feeling up to ice skating. Cross-country skiing was out due to the lack of snow (for the first time in over a month). And I had neglected to check out directions to the toboggan place—it was a 40-minute drive away. A little too far for our time frame.

So I learned that it's always good to have a back-up of your back-up of your back-up plan. After the museum, we stopped by a local coffee shop for hot drinks and enormous peanut butter cookies. It was a really nice afternoon filled with adult conversation and companionable silence. All the same .... there were diaper-changing stations, and Eleanor would have loved it. We might just have to take her along next time.

Setting Some Goals

Alright, I think I need to make a few of my goals public, to hold myself accountable. So here goes:

• I want to run a 10k in the beginning of May.
• I want to lose 20-30 pounds by July.

There! I've admitted it. Since I didn't write any New Year's Resolutions, this will have to do instead. We'll see how it goes .....

Ruff! Just Call Me Houdini

Ruff! Beckett here. It's been a few exciting weeks. The baby human is much more interactive these days. This is good because she shows excellent taste—she smiles and coos whenever I walk in the room. This is bad because she shows excellent taste—she's always trying to tug on my ears and fur.

To get some more attention, I've started a new Friday tradition of escaping. For the past three weeks, I've managed to get out of the backyard every Friday afternoon. Every time the parents think they've figured out how I got out, I find another way!

But just once a week wasn't enough anymore; I've gotten hungry for more freedom. The best was Wednesday morning. I escaped at 6:45 am, before it was even light out! It was pouring rain, everything was wet and muddy, and I squeezed through the closed gate in 2 minutes flat. Dad drove around the neighborhood (making him late for work), while Mom called from the back porch and walked a few houses down, but couldn't go too far because of the baby human.

I finally took pity on them and showed up at the back fence, barking and excited to be out on such a gorgeous day. I was covered in mud from head to tail and in the best mood. And yet, they weren't pleased. Mom made me take a shower and neither one of them would talk to me for the rest of the day. I don't think it helped my case that, while driving around looking for me, the car picked up a nail and when Dad went back out to the garage 15 minutes later, he could hear the air hissing out of the tire.

And yet, I can feel the itch to escape building. They think they have everything figured out, because they have me hooked up to a leash every time I go out. But it's only a matter of time before I escape that, too. Just this afternoon I snuck out through the gate but didn't get very far because I was still leashed to the porch. I'll figure it out, though. Tomorrow is Friday, after all ....

Class of '26

When uploading January pictures from our camera, Keith took one look at this one and said, "I didn't realize Eleanor had already posed for her senior pictures."

She plans on majoring in Adorable with a minor in Screech Monkey when she matriculates this Fall.

Not Fighting Fair

Eleanor is a hair-puller. And glasses stealer. And face pincher.

How am I supposed to discipline her for that? From what I've read, she doesn't even understand the word "no" and won't for a few months. Mostly it happens when she's nursing, so I'm a little busy. And it's not like we're playing, and I can just stop and do something else.

Am I fooling myself, thinking it will get easier once she understands what the word "no" means? Or will it just be that much more frustrating when I tell her to stop something, I see the comprehension in her eyes, and she does it anyway?

A Northeastern Ohio Blessing

I'm familiar with the Irish blessing:

May the road rise up to meet you,
May the wind be ever at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face
And the rain fall softly on your fields.

And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of his hand.

Right now, we're in the midst of another lovely Cleveland snowstorm. On the news this morning, they mentioned that the Cleveland record for snowfall in January is 43 inches. As of 9 o'clock this morning, we were at 39, and it's not done snowing yet.

While lifting the heavy shovel for about the 200th time, I came up with my own Cleveland blessing:

May the snow be light
May your shovel be wide
And may spring come tomorrow.

My Brain Is Old

I went to the optometrist the other week. I was pretty excited to go, because my contacts have been giving me headaches ever since Eleanor was born. And now, 6 months later, I'm finally getting around to doing something about it.

After the eye exam, the doctor asked me whether I had any interest in switching from my usual, day-wear contacts to contacts that you can leave in day and night. I said "no," and explained how I don't wear my contacts all the time, they're mostly for sporting activities, etc .....

As I'm listening to the words coming out of my mouth, I am silently acknowledging to myself that it's all a load of crap. I mean, technically it may be true. But the real reason I'm not even considering overnight contacts is that I think they're unnatural. Contacts that you can wear at night?!? That's crazy!

I am completely okay with the general concept of contacts, because they've been around for most of my formative years. But wearing them for extra long periods of time, especially at night, was definitely against the rules. So even though an optometrist is recommending them as a viable option, I can't wrap my head around the idea.

And this is one way that I know I'm getting older. Because scientific advances are starting to seem too far out there for me to really believe. I can almost feel my synapses slowing down, my gray matter hardening into the well-traveled paths of thinking.

Next thing I know, you'll probably be trying to tell me that information can be transmitted through the air, and that any qualified individual can become President of the United States. I may nod and smile, but I probably won't believe you, though.

One Hand in My Pocket

Why do baby clothes have pockets? Real, functional pockets?

And maternity clothes don't?!? Do clothing makers really think babies need pockets more than pregnant women do? What exactly are they going to put in there? Eleanor has jeans and hoodies with tiny, adorable little pockets. I ended up with three pairs of maternity pants with fake pockets. A line of stitching that suggests the presence of a useful pocket, which in actuality does not exist.

A pregnant woman may not be able to see her hips very well, but that doesn't mean she can't feel her way into a pocket for a tissue or some loose change for the vending machine.

But babies? Their hand coordination is terrible. They never remember where they put anything. And they're not even ALLOWED to touch anything that is small enough to fit into a baby pocket. What kind of crazy world are we living in?

Family Christmas

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I hope everyone enjoyed lovely holidays.

Our holidays were wonderful. We hosted Christmas Eve at our house for my family. Christmas morning was quiet and relaxed; probably one of our last Christmas mornings when we don't have to worry about assembling various toys, keeping Santa's gifts separate from our own, etc.

It felt like a real family Christmas. Eleanor wasn't that bothered about the whole thing, although she did enjoy getting new toys to play with (eat). Gomez is like the young child—she's up before anyone else, racing around the house. But again, that's her usual modus operandi.

Beckett is the teenager. He stayed under the covers as long as possible. After Eleanor's first feeding and once everyone else was up, we called for Beckett to join us downstairs. No response. I finally had to go into the bedroom and pull the covers off him before he would stretch and wander downstairs. I gave him a huge bone, said "Merry Christmas," and that was the last we saw of him all morning. The rest of the family gathered around the Christmas tree to open presents. Beckett disappeared to the other side of the living room to lay under the coffee table. We could hear sounds of gnawing and licking, but that was about it.

Christmas afternoon we went out to my parents' house. By this point we were learning what Eleanor's favorite part of present-opening was: the wrapping paper. She kept trying to eat it. Well, and every present we opened .... including a globe from my sister, which seemed fitting. What can I say? She knows what she wants and goes after it!

We had Christmas with Keith's family in Cincinnati over the following weekend, and New Year's Eve was a quiet night in, watching a movie and drinking a glass of wine.

The hardest part of the post-holiday letdown was Keith going back to work. He was off from the 24th through the week of New Year's, so Eleanor and I had gotten used to having him around all the time. I went through a mini-version of my first traumatic realization that I would be home alone with the baby all day long when she was about a month old and all of our wonderful helpers had to return to their usual lives.

But we made it through. And now the weather is frigid, inches of snow cover the ground, and there's a winter storm advisory for several more inches tonight/tomorrow. Ahhh, winter! I think I'll take a cue from Beckett and hide under the covers all weekend.

The Meaningfulness of Christmas Cards

This is why people despise Christmas cards.

We have lived at our current address for 2.5 years. Meaning, this will be our 3rd Christmas in our house. It's bad enough that we still get junk mail for residents who have lived here for the past 20 years or so ... but so far this month we have gotten three Christmas cards to the couple who lived here before us. These are actual cards, mailed by individuals ..... who apparently are so out of touch with the former occupants that they're not even aware these people have moved 4 hours away. Over 2 years ago.

I don't know if it's the fault of the sender, for not paying attention. Or maybe the recipients never bothered to let them know? But surely, if you care about someone enough to feel the need to send them holiday greetings, shouldn't you know where they live?

Babysitting Success

Our night out this past weekend went really well. The Dayton Flyers won (Go UD!) and we enjoyed our time away.

We couldn't help wondering, of course, how things were going back home. But we resisted the urge to call until we were on the road heading back home. According to what my parents told us, Eleanor was a little angel and everything went very smoothly. I suspect, though, that they would tell us that regardless of the truth, because they love us and want us to leave the house occasionally over the next decade or so.

Being a parent is a funny thing. A strange combination between wanting your child to become independent and wanting to take care of her forever. Why is it that I'm so conflicted? I wanted her to take a bottle .... but when she finally did I was a little sad. I wanted her to be happy when her grandparents hold her and play with her .... and when she is, I feel unneeded.

This parenting stuff is hard work. Even when we're taking the night off.

Christmas Procrastination Techniques

When it comes to Christmas again, I always fondly remember the ways I would procrastinate in studying for exams in college.

Elf bowling was probably my favorite. Silly and addictive, it saved me from hours wasted on actually revising my essay and learning topics of study. So if you need something to procrastinate from this holiday season, enjoy!

Pre-Game Jitters

I'm starting to get nervous, and tip-off is still days away.

For the first time, we are leaving Eleanor for an evening out on the town. Our Alma Mater, the University of Dayton, is playing the University of Akron in Akron, and we have tickets. This means we'll be gone around 5 hours, between driving and the game itself.

I never intended to be the kind of parent who won't leave her child with a babysitter. But, well, you can't plan on the child. And, for her first 4 months, Eleanor refused to take a bottle. So that made the decision for us.

We've snuck out of the house a few times before. When Keith's parents visit, they send us out for coffee or a quick meal. My Mom has watched Eleanor one afternoon while I went into the office for a meeting. And we even went to a friend's wedding in October—we just skipped the ceremony, showed up at the reception in time for the meal, and left before the dancing really got started.

But every time I've been gone, I've felt the clock ticking. And I knew if I didn't get back within 2-4 hours at the most, there would be a hungry baby meltdown. Which is much more ferocious and scary than it sounds. As time passed, I could feel myself winding tighter and tighter as I worried about what was going on at home. I couldn't truly relax and enjoy it.

A few weeks ago, that started to change. I don't know if the 20th bottle we tried was the charm, or if she had just decided a bottle wasn't all that repulsive. But she started to show a little interest in it. We've been working on it since then, and I'm completely confident that Eleanor is fully capable of taking a bottle.

Will she choose to take it? Well, that's a different question entirely. My parents have graciously offered to be the experimental babysitters, and suffer Eleanor's wrath if she chooses to refuse sustenance. They have seen and lived through her hungry frustration before, so I have every confidence that they can handle the situation. Between the rocking, bouncing, singing, shh-ing, and more, they could soothe their way out of World War III, if necessary.

So I'm really looking forward to this basketball game. I know that Eleanor will be lovingly cared for, and is completely capable of being fed and happy when we get home. I no longer worry that I'm abandoning her and scarring her because she's going hungry while I sip my latte. So we just might have to stop for a leisurely latte on the way home.

Lap of Luxury

My lap has been a busy place of late. Obviously, 90% of the time, Eleanor and I are hanging out. I'm soothing her, I'm bouncing her on my knee, she's standing on my legs. This is the majority of lap duty.

But the animals are also more interested in cuddling. I think they're jealous. I used to try my best to entice Gomez to sit in my lap and let me pet her, with very limited results. Once Keith even helped cover me in cat treats to try to get her attention. She never showed, but Beckett loved it.

Now Beckett has always liked cuddling together on the couch. He comes and curls up right next to you, maybe putting his head on your knee. He's not a big believer in personal space.

But both animals have upped their attentiveness. Whenever my lap is empty, they seize the opportunity. When I'm sitting at a computer, Gomez is usually curled up in my lap. (To be perfectly honest, she just left. But she had been sitting with me for about 15 minutes, I swear!) Beckett likes to join me when I'm baby-free on the couch or recliner. But it's not enough for him anymore to sit next to me. He now jumps into my lap, curls up, and rests his head on my arm.

I don't mind too much. It's nice to feel wanted. And it's nice to be holding someone who won't scream in my ear or tug on my hair.

Welcome, Father Winter!

The windows went in just in the nick of time, because winter has come early this year. One Friday, they were putting in a window in the sunshine and Eleanor and I went for a walk. The following Monday, snow was blowing in through the gaping hole in the siding as they framed out another window, and I turned off the heat so it wasn't running continuously.

I can't believe how quickly time has passed since Eleanor was born. She's already 4 months old! Suddenly it's December. Thanksgiving is past and Christmas is just around the corner. How did this happen?

I'm very excited for Eleanor's first Christmas. I'm not excited to bundle her up every time we go outside. I miss going for walks around the block, or even just around the backyard. I'm excited for her to experience snow. I feel guilty every time I pick her up and her tiny little fists have turned into blocks of ice.

Part of me is already looking forward to the Spring. Opening the windows again, sitting on the porch swing with Eleanor on a sunny day. But part of me also feels that the time is already going too fast. Eleanor has changed so much since was born, and will continue to change rapidly over the next few months.

I try to picture us in the Spring, but I have no idea what Eleanor will look like or be doing. Will she be crawling? Standing? Speaking in full sentences? (Probably not.)

So although the dark days of winter are depressing, I'll do my best not to wish away this time with my daughter and all of the experiences we have to look forward to.

I Can See Clearly Now

As I mentioned—very briefly and bitterly—a few months ago, we are getting all new windows for our house. Because our house is old and the windows are incredibly drafty—oh, and have lead paint.

But windows are quite expensive, so we ended up doing just over half of the house now, and will have to do the rest another time. The installation took FOREVER. Nearly 3 weeks, to be more precise. It's because we chose custom windows, built by a local shop, instead of mass-produced ones. And, apparently, our house is a one-of-a-kind crazy building where the frames don't match the window size and the walls vary in thickness from the top of a window to the bottom. That sort of thing.

I was going to blog about getting the windows put in as it happened, but it was just too depressing. They finished maybe one window a day, and then lost a day here because of weather, another day there because someone on the crew was sick .... yeah. It was a long process.

However, they are now in and they look fabulous. We can already tell a huge difference, particularly in the living room where the biggest windows are. I doubt we'll save as much in heating bills as we spent on the windows in one winter, but give it a decade or so and maybe we'll break even.

It's just so difficult to relax or feel at ease in your own home when you have contractors on the premises. Eleanor and I had to hide in the basement whenever I was feeding her, which felt like most of the day. Plus I dreaded hearing that there would be another delay, and all the uncertainty of never knowing when they'd be finished.

And yet, by the end I was a little sad to see the contractors go. The same two guys had put in all the windows. They'd told Eleanor how beautiful and smart she is, and exclaimed over what a wonderful dog Beckett is. They even threatened to take Gomez home with them, too, because she'd also befriended them. The house felt a little empty on the first day without them. But it felt a lot warmer, too.