Oudated Running Tights

This morning on my trail run, I wore my favorite running tights. They're super comfy.. they've got lots of color and apparently they're really outdated. Upon arrival, my sister informed me they were bad. Really bad. Then during the run (we run with about eight people), one of the guys told me I was probably scaring off all the wildlife because my pants were so loud. Keep in mind, this guy isn't exactly Mr. Trendsetter. He was wearing a neon yellow vest. So the fact that a guy who is not the snappiest dresser noticed that I was wearing outdated pants concerns me. They must in fact be... outdated. I did buy them at the Nike outlet store in Colorado in 1998. I remember it vividly. It just doesn't feel that long ago. I also had on my 'Sigma Chi winter formal' windbreaker that is from 1998 as well. It proudly displays the date so that everyone knows it's old. I'm old. I love that jacket. Just as much as I love those pants. They just go together. This afternoon I was going through old clothes.. making piles to donate, etc. I had to call my sister to see if a pair of cargo pants I have are still in style. Before she could answer, she informed me the first pair of pants that need to go are the running tights I wore this morning. Ugly and unflattering she said. "Get black," she told me. I wasn't sure whether to be mad at her for her brutal honesty or to thank her. I'm a bit infamous for my outdated workout pants. In college I had a pair of bright blue sweats that were so ugly and outdated I couldn't not wear them. They were too funny. Then someone stole them and it became even funnier. My friends and I would make special announcements at very serious meetings requesting my 80's sweats back. Which makes me laugh uncontrollably even today. They were pretty bad. So I'm still on the fence about whether to keep my pants or to donate them. I can wear them and joke about them.. just like the 80's sweats. Or I could just get a 'black' pair. Boring. Well, I do have a pair of bright purple running tights that I could probably wear instead. They're far from boring. Wait a minute though. I think I got them on the same shopping trip in 1998. Well, I guess there's nothing wrong with boring.

A Hard Hitting Journalist

In Journalism school they teach you a lot of things. Things like, if your mother tells you she loves you, check it out.. don't be afraid to ask the tough question, etc. You know, hard hitting stuff. What they don't teach you or prepare you for is exactly what's happened to me over the past two days. I'm doing some freelance writing for a new weekly newspaper here in town. I'm currently writing about a construction project gone bad. I'm getting close to my deadline and I need to talk to people now if not sooner. So, I absolutely had to make a phone call to the construction company late this afternoon.. I needed to get to the bottom of it. The only problem.. Presley was screaming because she was starving.. and Piper and Brooks were acting nuts-o because they refused to nap. So as I'm calling the project manager, I am warming up baby food for Presley. I clearly didn't want him to hear the microwave beeping so every time it would get close, I would run downstairs... wait for it to beep, then come back up to stir and reheat. Fortunately I had a microphone attached to the phone so I didn't have to write anything down (a huge infraction in the journalism world.. I'm sure feeding your child baby food during a tough interview would've also made the list but I don't think someone could've ever imagined that happening). Once the food was warmed up, I was feeding Presley sweet potatoes and green beans drilling this guy about why his project was so screwed up. I was thinking the entire time.. oh, if he only knew. When he was about to 'buckle' under intense questioning (ok, a bit dramatic.. but it was getting good).. Brooks comes running into the kitchen whining about something. Quickly, I handed him a bag of chips (something I NEVER DO), gave him the 'mean mommy' face to quiet down.. and shooed him out of the kitchen. If that wasn't bad enough, yesterday I had to call the Mayor to interview him for the same story.. never thinking he would actually take my call. I had Piper (she's four) watching Presley (she's seven months) while Brooks (he's two) was upstairs napping. About two minutes into the interview Brooks wakes up and starts screaming bloody murder while the Mayor is expressing extreme frustration with the project. I was thinking, ok.. what is going on up there.. his hand is getting cut off.. his head is stuck in the rails of his bed.. someone is climbing up a ladder to his room attempting to break-in and kidnap him.. meanwhile I'm on the phone interviewing the Mayor about a roundabout project. Thank you sweet baby Jesus for Piper. She goes upstairs.. takes care of the situation with Brooks (fortunately, nothing traumatic was happening to him and I still don't know why he was screaming).. helps him down the stairs.. and quietly goes back into the room with Presley to continue watching her. Amazing. Simply amazing. She wins babysitter of the year award at the ripe old age of four. Of all the times I imagined being a journalist in college, this was never part the dream. I never once aspired to be a no-nonsense reporter who feeds her baby homemade organic sweet potatoes and green beans during tough interviews. I have another interview tomorrow at 6:00 a.m. (random time, I realize.. but that's the only time it would work for him). I'm sure Presley will right there with me.. this time she'll have bananas and applesauce... and the kids might just have chips for breakfast.

Hush Little Baby

It's currently 2:04 a.m. If I were a smoker, I'd be lighting it up. If I were a drinker, I'd be pouring myself a tall one. However, I'm none of these things. I am a mom trying to let her seven month old cry it out. It's been going on for about twenty minutes now. Her screaming. I have no idea how long she will cry. We've never really let her cry that long before. The past few nights she's been up three times to nurse. Yes that's right. She's been up three times in the middle of the night to nurse. It's killing us. As my husband says, instead of going forwards, we're going backwards with her sleeping. So tonight's the night. We're done. It's for the sake of sanity. Survival really. We can no longer wake up three times in the middle of the night and expected to be bright, happy, cheery people the next day. It is physically impossible. Our pediatrician said cut her off. She's getting no nutritional value from it. I feel like yelling under the door, 'this is not our fault.. your doctor told us to do it... so please.. don't be mad at us.. don't hate us.. it's for your (our) own good... really (i think).' But I'm not sure that would do much good. She'd probably be like, 'whatever lady, just get in here.' I just don't know why this is so hard to do with Presley. With Brooks, it was no big deal. We were like, you're done waking up in the middle of the night.. and that was it. He cried a few nights for a little bit and then he was good to go. Snoozing all the way through. We didn't think twice. Apparently, we had tougher skin. It was tough love and that was fine. But with Presley, this is really hard. Maybe it's because she's our last.. maybe I've gone soft. Maybe it's because we live in a different house now and it seems like her screams are on an intercom system that carries through the entire house at full blast. I'm not really sure. I just keep picturing her sweet little face crying, crying, crying wondering why I've not come to rescue her. 'Mom, what's the deal. What in the world did I do? Why are you being so mean to me?' I'm just sure those things are going through her mind right now. Maybe I'll go drive around... grab an ice tea, maybe a magazine, some peanut M&M's. I could just sit in the garage and hang out. I know I couldn't hear her in there. There would be no risk of me caving.. flinging open the door to rush in and pick up my sweet baby. Oh wait, she's calming down. Maybe this is our big break. Nope, she's firing up again. Ok, now she's calm. I hear her little voice getting sleepy. I had to read my Bible earlier tonight to stay strong.. to prep for this. I need divine intervention in a big, bad way. Hummm, I think she might be asleep now. Nope, I just heard her again. But I think she's tapering. It's now been quiet for about three minutes. Oh Lord. Please, let this be it. Ok, we've made it a few more minutes. Not a peep. The knot in my stomach is slowly going away. I did it. She did it. It's 2:41.

Fit For a Queen

You know it's time to take your child out of the bassinet when their feet hang over the edge. That was the case for Miss Presley. My husband woke up the other morning and found her feet dangling off the side. At nearly seven months, she has officially outgrown the bassinet. Craig informed me that she outgrew it at four months... but who's counting. It's not like she sits up in the morning and goes, 'hey guys, what's for breakfast?' Frankly, I've just been a little afraid.. petrified actually.. to move her out of it because of the screaming. If we go backwards and she starts screaming again.. I'll die. Or go Crazy. Or both. But Craig made the switch. I walked upstairs and saw the bassinet in the hallway. A true sign that we were done. She was done. So she's temporarily sleeping in the pack and play. The funny thing is.. she seems to love it. She's taken her best naps since the switch. She can roll around.. lay on her belly.. snuggle up in a little ball. She's found freedom. In a pack and play. Our next step is trying to get her to sleep through the night. She still wakes up twice a night. It's killing us. We're mentally preparing ourselves to let her cry it out. But we're not there yet. At least I'm not. It's tough on a mom. Maybe she needs even more space to sleep. Maybe she needs an even bigger bed.. like our queen size. A bed fit for a queen.. and she certainly is that.. or at least a princess anyway.

We Like Mike

"Autism Speaks". What a fabulous slogan for the autism community. Well today in Kansas City, autism wasn't just speaking.. it was yelling.. 'find a cure, find treatment options, find the cause'. Nearly 10,000 people gathered this morning for a benefit walk at the Kansas Speedway to raise money and awareness for this disorder. We were there in support of our dear friend, Michael. He has autism. He is very high functioning. Upon meeting him, you'd probably never know anything was different about him. He is loving. Encouraging. He always puts others before him. He loves kids, they love him.. and he'll be the first to tell you. What I love most is that he's endearing. He sincerely cares about you. He's genuine. He also works hard at his job. Loves movies. Loves life. Before he reads a card, he always looks at the back to see how much it costs. He's fun to be around. He always kicks my rear when we run together. But he's never rubbed it in. Like so many others, this disorder has robbed him. His family. His friends. The Autism Speaks organization says that one in 150 people are diagnosed with this disorder. That's mind blowing. It's not fair. How would Michael's life be different if he wasn't 'the one'. What would he do. What would he be. Questions that have no doubt rattled through the minds of his family members millions of times by now. Michael had a very large group walking on his behalf today... raising over a thousand dollars in his honor. And that 'speaks' volumes for Michael.

Chatty Cathy

When you feel very passionate about something.. and feel like you need to be heard, it's hard to keep quiet. I can appreciate that. I am a passionate person myself. I get it. I support it. I'm on board. But, when you feel the need to get your point across at 4:30 in the morning every day.. it's a little exhausting. My sweet little Miss Presley has decided that she needs to get a few things off her chest every morning. She wakes up and just starts talking. She can go on and on without the need to really even catch her breath. Her 'speeches' are often very emotional. She'll throw in a little cry, a scream and sometimes even a laugh. She's never quiet though. She's a pretty loud talker. She doesn't really know what an 'in-door' voice is yet. I'm not sure why I should be surprised. She's been making herself heard from the get-go. She's one determined little girl. She was determined to enter the world much earlier than expected.. so she decided to pop on out about 4 1/2 weeks early. Then she was determined not to eat so she spent ten days in the NICU. When we got her home she was determined that just because she was a third child.. oh no, she would not be forgotten or overlooked. So she basically screamed her head off the five months of her life. And now she's determined to make her voice heard in the form of chatter. She too wants a say in this family. She wants to get her point across. At whatever time fits her schedule. She has apparently penciled it in at 4:30 a.m. every single day. Weekends included. The thing about Presley is.. she does not want to be told what to do. When my husband or I gently tell her, 'shh.. go back to sleep.' She's not happy. She's like.. 'Oh no. No one tells me to shh.' And she'll often cry at that point. My husband then typically hands her over to me to nurse her. That usually quiets her down. It gives her a chance to collect her thoughts again. To come up with some good talking points for later. I actually enjoy hearing what she has to say. Just as long as it's not in the form of a scream. So carry on Presley. But if you could decide to just push your speeches back a couple of hours..

Bad News Bears

Let me just start by saying I nearly broke my foot, lost my voice and almost threw my back out today. It's all due to what else... but coaching Piper's soccer game. Her team is bad. Really, really bad. And that's putting it mildly. Her coach wasn't able to make it to the game today so she asked Craig to fill in.. who then asked me to do it. I can't blame the coach for not wanting to come. We've only lost every game by lots and lots. I can't blame Craig for not wanting to coach again either. The last time he filled in, the other coach came over and apologized because they won by such a landslide. This time it was my turn.. and I was determined to do whatever it took to get our team a victory. Or at least on the scoreboard. On our way to the game.. we prayed. Asking God to allow us to play with excellence. He can move mountains.. surely he can help a little league soccer team. I had visions of 'Miracle on Ice' and 'Hoosiers'. I was fired up. If only my team of Bad News Bears felt the same. When we got there, one of the girls was crying because she didn't want to play. Her parents forced her out on the field. Literally. We all started chanting her name so she would get it together. Thankfully it worked. She was willing to at least just stand there. I told all the girls they could do cartwheels down the field if the scored. They informed me they didn't know how.. so we settled on forward rolls. My sister threw in a trip to the snack bar. Which they loved. Craig promised an all expense paid trip to Disney if they won. Yes, we're that desperate and not above bribery. While we were 'warming up' I was a total spaz. I wanted to get those girls on fire!! So just as the game was about to start, the other coach asked me if I was going to be this excited throughout the entire game. I was thinking, 'listen buddy... I'm the third string coach here. I'm doing whatever it flippin' takes to get us on the board.' The first quarter was good. We indeed got on the board.. but were still a few goals down. The second quarter.. not so good. They had an All-American on their team who was five feet taller than the other girls and could've been on the US National team. Every time the ball came within 12 feet of her, she somehow managed to score. Third quarter.. a little better. We got a couple of goals again.. the girls were turning on the heat. To continue this inspiration and motivation, I was throwing girls up in the air, waving their hands around, encouraging forward rolls, you name it. The final quarter.. a bit of a beat down. Mia Hamm was back on the field. Our girls got discouraged quick. One of our players refused to run and started yawning... complaining how tired she was. No forward roll would turn her attitude around. She was done. And fortunately, a few minutes later so was the game. There would be no trip to Disney since it was obvious we didn't win. But we were headed to the snack bar since we at least got on the board. And wouldn't you know it.. that little girl who wouldn't run.. ran all the way to the snackbar. Next week is our last game of the season. I was thinking about having Mickey and Minnie come to the game to cheer them on.. but it looks like all I need is a Snickers bar.