Long Race, Long Day, Longest Post Ever

Our day started at the Farmstead Corn Maze at 8:30.  I signed up to run a 5K race and Michael, Ethan, and Libby signed up for the fun run.  My sister Heidi came to my house to watch the babies.  Above is my friend Caitlin and I before the race.  Nervous but excited.  This was my first race ever and her first since high school.  It was a costume race, hence my witches hat.  It lasted less than a quarter mile.

 Running with nuns.

 Still early on.  See how happy we are!?

3.0 miles later I am not smiling.  That brown blob covering her mouth is me.  I was trying not to puke.  I failed.  The race course was brutal.  Every time I thought I was coming to the end the trail doubled back on itself.  Plus we were jumping irrigation ditches, running through tires, crawling under tractor trailers and even traipsing through a giant lizard monster.  The jog was a lot harder than my usual one.  I kept thinking the end was coming but it wasn't.  So I kept pushing because I was going to jog the whole thing.   At mile 3.09 I puked on the hay bales.  As much as I wanted to jog the whole 3.1 miles I ended up walking the last 50 yards, then jogging through the finish line for the photo finish.

Finally done!  I was supposed to run across that giant trampoline thing behind me but it was the one obstacle I skipped.  Don't judge me.

 Yay!  I did it!

Then we played around.  The kids ended up in jail.  Michael cried and wondered where we had gone wrong.

 Then it was time for the 1/2 mile fun run.  Through the metal maze, through the giant monster,

 under the ropes,

 (Michael was in this position for 3 minutes before he was able to get back up again),

 over the hay,

 down the slide,

 and they emerged victorious.

 Then we went to play.

 I even felt more friendly toward the jump pad.

 Lots of picture ops.

 Who are those cute people?

Entering the corn maze.  Libby and I got incredibly lost.  Michael and Ethan beat us out by 25 minutes and they had to come back in and help us out.  I have no sense of direction and Libby seems to take after me.

 Going on a hayride

 to get some pumpkins.

 I told them to pretend they love each other.  They aren't very good actors.

 After naps and dinner we went to the ward trunk-or-treat.  Here is my beautiful fairy princess.

 And Poseidon (not King Tritan, you Philistines).

 Sam the dinosaur with pirate cousin Aubrey.

 Princess Libby and Avatar Korra cousin Kylynn.

 Rocking Libby's cowgirl hat.

And finally the end of a long day.  If you made through all the photos I'm very impressed.  Give yourself a little pat on the back.

Maybe It Would Be Easier If I Were Blonde

I've never felt inspired to run.  I've walked, tried pilates, yoga and even Richard Simmons' videos.  I've tried it all, but not running.  I've seen all the girls run around town with their blonde ponytails swinging, and think, "Good for them, glad it's not me."  And why do they always have swishy blonde ponytails?  Do girls with swishy blonde hair just like running more?  Is it in their DNA?  The world may never know.

This June I started walking with some friends early in the morning.  They assured me they primarily walked with only a little bit of jogging thrown in.  I figured a little jogging wouldn't kill me.  So 6am every other morning I crawled out of bed for a nice walk and a little jogging with three friends.  After a few weeks two of the ladies decided on more jogging and less walking.  My other friend and neighbor Caitlin and I plodded behind while watching their ponytails swish far ahead of us.  The runners would occasionally circle around and check back on us.  This was especially disheartening when I was fighting my way up the hill and they would run up it, run down to check on us, and then run back up the hill, all the while I'm trying to keep from hurling my cookies.  Then the two runners decided to start training for a 1/2 marathon.  I was still training to jog a mile without stopping.

Soon school started back up and schedules changed.  Our jogging group started to dissolve.  This would have been a good time to stop jogging.  I don't like jogging.  Everyone is busy.  Yadadadada.  But Caitlin and I, the non-runners, decided to keep going.  We had already decided to jog a 5K and we were sticking with the plan.  We get up three mornings a week, way earlier than I like, and jog.

Why do I do this?  I don't like jogging.  I don't like six in the morning.  I don't like the cold.  But there I am cold, tired, and jogging.  I think what I really like is how it makes me feel about myself.  I am always amazed when I jog just a little farther and a little faster than I thought possible.  The first time I jogged a 5K without stopping, a few weeks back, I couldn't stop myself from telling everyone about it. (Proofreader's note: Everyone.  Twice.)

The thing I really like about jogging is the chance it gives me to shed my roles (not rolls, I don't think I've lost any weight at all).  For 40 minutes three times a week I am not a mother, or a wife, or a daughter.  I feel like I'm just me.  The hamster in the wheel of my mind sits still for a little bit.  I'm not worried about cavities, or potty training, or children's literacy, or bickering children.  I am not worried about dinner, or laundry, or budgets.  Jogging gives me almost two hours a week where I can just worry about putting one foot in front of the other.  It gives me a chance to remember who I am before I put on all my other roles for the day.  It's a win-win for everyone.  Happy Katie makes happy mama and happy mama makes the whole world run a little better.

So three days a weeks I scrape my decidedly unswishy hair back into a brown ponytail, put on my shoes and go.  Tomorrow I am running in the first race I've ever voluntarily run.  I'm running a 5K at Farmstead.  Even if I place dead last, I will be impressed with myself.  In July I couldn't even jog a mile without stopping and now at 33 I can run farther than at any point in my life.  I'm even having strange fantasies of training for a 10K.  

Table Rock Hike

I have lived in Boise for over 15 years and have never hiked Table Rock [head hung in shame].  This summer the kids, babies, and I hiked a bit of the way and the kids have been asking to hike it ever since.

Friday Michael was home from work so we dropped the babies off with his mom (side note: when am I going to stop calling them "the babies"?; they are not babies anymore) and headed out.  Not having hiked it before I didn't know what to expect or how long a hike it was.  It was about 1 3/4 miles up to the top and it was painful. 

This is about 1/2 way up.  Ethan is still smiling because it hasn't become difficult yet. After this every hundred yards he wanted us to take a break but he kept on hiking.

After repeatedly denying the kids more frequent breaks and haplessly trying to give Sadie (the dog) some water, we finally made it to the top.  The view was beautiful if a little hazy.  From up high you can still see all the smoke we have had this year.  We figured we would hike it again in the spring if we manage to forget the pain...

Can Hardly Believe It

Socks!

Every single kid needed new socks.  Socks are horribly expensive.  I still can't believe I spent forty dollars on socks.  SOCKS! The good news is everyone now has socks for the winter. 

It also provided an afternoon of entertainment for Grace.  Libby was kind enough to take pictures for me.

 Sam willingly played along.  Be thankful he is wearing underwear.

At one point she was wearing three pairs of socks at the same time.  We needed to go to the grocery store so I told her she could only wear one pair.  She peeled off all but one pair (no recollection if they were a matching pair or not) and grabbed her purse.  As I was helping her buckle into her car seat, I glanced into her purse and saw four more pairs of socks, which she carried all through the store with her.  Socks are better than toys and I never knew.

Just a Little Whining

It's been hard lately.  It just seems that I have so much to do.  Little people are either yelling at me or hitting each other or whining at me.  So I beat myself up.  If I were a better mother they wouldn't yell so much.  I must be doing something wrong if they think it's okay to hit each other. If I was more consistent about having them clean up, the house wouldn't be such a mess.  If I didn't slip up and yell then they wouldn't learn to yell.  If I could just be blessed perfect then everything would be so much easier.

I even called my single friend to complain.  We have been best friends since high school and I needed to vent. I told her how Sam was yelling "Meanie butt!" at me in the middle of Winco and how I never get a single moment alone.  She told me how she wished that, just occasionally, she had someone to help her make the hard decisions.  I told her how I would love to make a single decision without having to weigh the wants and need of five other people.  She said she would like someone to care if she comes home late.  I don't think either of us won the badge for hardest life but we may have each got a gold star in our separate divisions.  I was whiny.  She was whiny.  I don't think I felt much better but it was nice to know other people are having a hard time as well.  Misery loves company.

I was still burned out and not able to take a break.  Even if I can get an hour here or there or even a weekend to myself I still worry about everyone.  Parents never get a real break.

This evening I was standing in the kitchen making cookies.  Michael, Ethan, Libby, and Grace were outside picking tomatoes before it freezes tonight.  That left me in the house with Sam.  A naked Sam.  Sam is always naked and today I didn't feel like putting his clothes back on him.  He would have taken them off in five minutes anyway.  In his defense, he wasn't completely naked.  He was wearing a blue oven mitt.  So a mostly nekkid Sam comes marching through the kitchen, pumping his arms up and down, saying "Zobot, wendy sis. Zobot, wendy sis."  This translates to "Robot, twenty-six"  I laughed.  It was absurd.  A moment I never envisioned when I was planning my perfect family, but it was a perfect moment in my not so perfect family.  It was a moment that reminded me that I am happy with where I am.  I even managed to have a pleasant exchange with the neighbor I met today.  Robot 26 wandered outside into the cool evening.  I knew he had stepped out so I finished putting the bowl in the sink and walked outside after him.  There I met the neighbor who was staring at my house.  She was debating coming up the walk to tell me I had a naked baby outside.  She seemed to be a very nice lady.

Today I am thankful for the little moments that keep me sane.

 Ahhhh....gotta go - Robot 26 just pooped on the floor.  Literally.