Reason #7 why I'm a good parent

Cause we do fun stuff like this!

Pun'kin artist...
Pun'kin scooper...

Pun'kin guts hauler...

Pun'kin guts scooper...

Punk-tacular!

Reason #364 why I'm a bad parent.

(I'm sorry, I try to keep the blog clean cut but for this post, bad words are an essential part of the story).

So the other night, Aron and the kids and I were all coming home and parking our car in the driveway. I stepped out of the car and our kitty, KiKi, immediately started yelling at me about how long we had been gone and the fact that she wanted to be inside. I turned to Aron and said "That cat is such an H.B." In my house, H.B. stands for Habitual Bitcher. A Habitual Bitcher is someone who complains and complains and complains just for the sake of complaining (We all know someone like this, right? Maybe even more than one??). We've used the term H.B. for a while but we've also gotten into a habit of spelling bad words or just spelling things to each other that we don't want the children to know about. You know like do you want to get some i-c-e-c-r-e-a-m after dinner or do you think we should get Luke a r-o-c-k-e-t- for his birthday or Uncle Jeffy's such a j-a-c-k-a-s-s. You know, stuff like that.

Anyhoos, so Ella says "What's an H.B.?"

I say "Oh it's nothing...just a joke to Daddy with bad words. Not a biggie."

E says "Oh is that like when you call someone a-s-s?"

Well, s-h-i-t, I think I've been busted.

It was nothing but this for 45 minutes...

Seriously...45 minutes

Juice me up!

Gotta stay hydrated when playing around in the leaves!

Ahhhhhh! We love the fall!

Half Marathon--Pep talk edition

Some of you think I'm a little crazy for doing the half marathon this year (I know you do...don't deny it...the voices in my head tell me you're talking about me...). Let me just say that it's not as hard as you think it is. Don't get me wrong, it's no stroll in the park but all you need is a good cardio base (think 30 minutes of cardio 3-4 times a week) with longer training walks on the weekend. You shouldn't worry that you're too old/fat/not athletic/whatever other type of self-defeating talk you use on yourself. Believe me when I tell you that when you're on the course, you will see plenty of older/fatter/more non-athletic people out there than you. My friend, Paula, who also completed the course was telling me about a woman who walked with her during the race that has cancer, completed a chemo treatment the morning of the race, and has only one lung.

Don't be afraid to be a walker and not a runner. Walking provides great cardio benefits and are not as hard on your joints. There are plenty of walkers (there may even be more of us if you count those people who walk and run) and it's not all elite athletes doing 5 minute miles.

Get off your keisters and get moving, people!

(Oh, and vote in my poll)

I get knocked down...but I get up again--Connie edition

My friend, Connie, talked me into training for the Columbus 1/2 marathon about 3 months ago. She felt like she had some unfinished business with regards to the Columbus marathon. This year, she finished it in style and made that course her bitch. (please pardon my cursie)



Lookie at how proud she is with that medal!!
Lookie at how stoked she is about the race

Lookie how excited she was during the race! (And try to ignore my bad hair)

Lookie at all those folks in front of us!

Lookie at all those people behind us!

Columbus 1/2 Marathon

I'll be doing the Columbus 1/2 marathon tomorrow. Feel free to watch my progress at

http://www.mtectracking.com:8080/Mtrack/Mtrack?raceid=9

Use Anna as my first name and my last name. I don't use my last name on this site but if you know me well enough to know about this blog then you know my last name : )


***Update: I'm not sure if the tracker worked or not. I tried to enter my name in but it won't come up. I finished and that's what counts. I will update with photos soon.

They say it's my anniversary!

10 years today, baby! Kiss, kiss, Honey Bunny!

My Momma says "don't lose you...cause the best luck I had was you"

Anybody remember this 5# 5 oz little guy??

An Open Letter to Luke 2 days before your 4th birthday:

Dear Luke:

As your Mom, I can honestly say I love you. You are part me, part your father. I appreciate everything about you. Some things I appreciate more than others. Let's see if I can get a little list going of the things I appreciate...

1.) You're cute as a button and know how to work it. Partially because you look like your Dad, partially because you've got huge eyes and the longest eyelashes covering them. I enjoy ruffling your shaggy, moppy hair. You're a lady killer. You flirt with waitresses, the doctor, nurses, teachers...heck, anyone who will stand close to you for more than a minute will feel the power of your charms. You had 2 girlfriends by the age of 3 but have declined the advances of the third.

*

2.) You invent new ways to use things that don't have obvious alternate uses. When you were big enough to walk, you realized that you could walk over to our kitty, Jane, and ride her like a horse. You didn't see just a kitty and feel confined to keeping her in the role of warm, fuzzy companion, you saw opportunity for fun.

*

3.) I love your curious nature. Granted, I didn't love it so much the time that I found you on my kitchen floor with the refrigerator door wide open and your chubby little fingers were smashing my eggs on my kitchen floor because you wanted to see what was in the inside of the eggs. I've learned to think 2 steps ahead of you. Ok, so maybe not 2 steps but at least a step. Ok, so maybe not even a full step because many times I get there right as you're doing whatever naughty thing you're doing but I get there and that's what counts.

*

4.) I think it's funny that you feel the need to squirrel food around my house. Yes, the vase at the bottom of my stairs is full of non-perishable food that you've taken from my cupboard and have stuffed in there in an attempt to thwart my filling your tummy with healthy foods. I pretend not to notice that you put a tiny stuffed Tigger on top of your pile of yummies as Guardian of the Goodies. If I hadn't been so angry at you for stuffing a red party cup of milk under your craft table until it had solidified and formed a yogurt-type consistency, I probably would've found it funny that you pulled a 1/4 eaten PB and J right out after it. And when I asked why you had a partially eaten and clearly less-than-fresh sammie under there, you told me "Cause you never know when you're gonna need a snack."

*

5.) It's refreshing that you're comfortable in your own skin...like the time that I ran to Kroger's and left your father in charge of you and your sister. As I drove back to our house, I noticed that there was a small child standing on the window sill in my window buck naked and banging on the glass. It didn't bother you that half the town had driven by our house and seen your winkie blowing in the breeze. (Clearly it didn't bother you father either who was oblivious to what was going on until I came storming in the house.). Or like the time that I started to take you to Vacation Bible School at a local church and noticed that you had put your pants on with no underwear underneath because you like to "be free" under your clothes.

*

6.) I appreciate the fact that you cry bull shit in the face of something that you think is a crock. You know, like the first day of pre-k this year when you had that fall down, screaming tantrum because Mrs. Michele wasn't in your classroom but some other woman was. Yes, this was a proud day for me.

*

7.) I love that you really think and analyze what you've been told. Like the time you had the "good touch, bad touch" lecture at your school where they used correct anatomical names for boy and girl body parts...then we proceeded to have a Q and A for 20 minutes in our loft upstairs about who has what part. If you read this blog, chances are your name was brought up and I had to clarify what you have. To that, I say, I'm sorry. Also, I'm sorry to the Bible School teacher who had to listen to Luke give a guest lecture about said parts.

*

I'm lucky to have you, little fella!

Hugs and kisses,

Mommy

Kindergarten Politics

Ella loves kindergarten. She loves learning (she wants to read really, reeeeeeeally bad), hanging out at recess, the homework, and everything else that goes along with it. She even loves the concept of eating lunch in the cafeteria ("It's like going out to eat at a restaurant without you and Daddy.").

She came home from school last week and said that she was super happy that a girl, Silvia, had picked her to help carry the tub of lunch boxes down to the cafeteria because Silvia was the student of the week and it was her job to pick helpers to help her do stuff when she needed a helper (whew. That was her run on sentence, not mine). I told her that was nice of Silvia and that she should make sure to pick her whenever it was her turn to be student of the week. Ella thought about this for a minute and said that she would but she would have to pick her other friends, Grace and Moriah because sometimes they played together at recess. I said that was fine but that eventually, she should pick Silvia, to be nice. She said she would think about it but that she knew she wouldn't be picking any boys.

Today she came home and said she had a new best friend, Reagan, who would be bumping everyone else down the list. So, her selections for helpers goes something like this:

1.) New BFF, Reagan
2.) Grace/Moriah
3.) Moriah/Grace
4.) whoever floats her boat that day
5.) Poor, rejected Silvia

The funny part is that I remember doing this exact same thing when I was her age. Ah, the hours I wasted thinking about the order of my kindergarten best best best friends.