Jenny On the Spot: Caffeinated mom, lover of dancing, glitter and glitter.

So… I have this girlfriend (Julie) from college who just got a book published! Lucky! (I said that just like Napoleon. Just. Like.) Anywho, right on girl! Props! I have not read it, so I can’t review it here, but – Right! Arm! I should prolly buy it – then I could review it and support my peeps.

So, what would my book(s) be about? I dunno… the over use of triple periods? Stress, kids and rock-n-roll? Ah, I have ideas, but I don’t want my adoring public *Jen* to steal my golden ideas because she lost 8 chapters of the book she had written when her computer crashed not so long ago. Y’all say it with me… “Ouch!”

Now it seems aspiring authors have another name for hope – Xulon Press. I wish I had a book ready so I could get in on their special that ends June 29th. Oh well. Some day… some day…

The kid’s choir rocked the sactuaraaayyyy! I swat (go with it – I am trying to make “swat” the offical past tense of sweat) in abundance and then crashed for a couple hours this afternoon. Those kids worked so stinkin’ hard this morning. I am so impressed by their efforts.

Mrs. Cindy – my kids-choir-director-in-crime… you rocked too… You ready to take on the world sista’? What’s that? You want a nap too? Now that’s more my speed – see why we’re friends?

I’m not one for politics – in conversation or my blog. It may be my lazy eye mind… It may be my political incorrectocityability… It may be that I am not a huge fan of humilitaitng arguing with friends – or dummies strangers for that matter. Besides, I know I’m always right. I don’t have anything to prove. I manage 4 people! I drive a Dodge Caravan!

I have come across 2 men you may want to consider for your president, and I want to share their visions with you.

First, there’s Jon Jones. It appears he wants to be the King of the United States. Hey, if Hilary is truly running, I don’t see why this guy wouldn’t be a viable option as well… Here’s his take on the word “politics”…

POLI = Many

TICS = Bloodsucking parasites

Secondly, not in importance but alphabetically by first name… meet Ray Hopewood. Thank you ZEFrank for intorducing me to “my fellow American”… I am partial to his commiment to technology… Be sure to read his “issues” page. I am amazed at the diversity in his vision and conviction… yes, a man with world-changing vision…

Discuss.

Oh dear… where did THIS come from? I was cool. I was cool. But now I’m not and my stomach is churning.

The kids are ready. They’ve been practicing every week and we (Mrs. Cindy and I) have been working them hard. You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?

Kid’s choir… that’s what’s goin’ down tomorrow. The kids’ performance is tomorrow – Father’s Day… and I am feeling so stinkin’ nervous! I’m not singing, but Cindy and I will be doing the movements and mouthing the words dramatically to the kids as they sing their precious little hearts out.

I know they’re going to be absolutely adorable and it won’t matter that everything won’t be perfect… it won’t matter that we’ve had as few as 10 and as many as 32 little people drift in and out of rehearsal over the past 2 months. It’s hard to anticipate how many we’ll have, and how loud they’ll sing. There are some who bob their heads to the left, when it should be right… some wave their hands one way, while all others wave the opposite… one song has A LOT of “lalalalala’s” at the end that bore us all a little… I hope I prompt them well, and don’t lose count on that part.

I have to keep reminding myself that their songs of praise are for the Lord, and He doesn’t give a rip about the rest. I suppose my concern lies with the people who may judge our preparedness/lack thereof… Or that I ruin other opportunities for the “untrained” to step in… I have lots of choir/small ensemble experience, but I have never lead/co-lead choir before.

I know I float to the doomsday side of assumptions. I just pray that the congregation will be blessed by the hearts and voices of these kiddos who really did work very hard. I pray the kids just have a ball and fall in love with music more and more. I am blessed to have had the opportunity to build relationships with this group – ranging in age from 5 to 11. It was a challenge to redirect some behavior, but at the end of this journey I get to see how we have all made our way through… and I feel bonded with these children – some I knew already, but a number of them I have grown to know.

Now there are a dozen extra kids to hug in my life… who’ll sit with me and my kids at church until their parent shows up… who’ll come and tell me a story… who I bump into in the community and I see their faces light up as the realize I have a life outside of the choir room. This part was a surprise to me… I guess good things really do come in small packages :)

Somehow I missed the little detail that each NODM finisher would get a buddy at the finish. Imagine my dismay when a bearded man – carrying a Vitamin Water and a finisher’s medal came to my side and began asking me questions. Just me. My friend Katie was off with some lady. She was holding Vitamin Water and a medal too…
I remember…

• feeling fuzzy headed, and the tiniest bit dizzy
• a bearded man holding hydration and proof I just kicked my own butt
• feeling like I kept reaching for that Vitamin Water, but it was always just. out. of. reach.
• feeling as if I couldn’t break the visual hold that shiny medal had either… Swish, swipe, swish, swipe, but to no avail…. Grasping at straws comes to mind… I wish I knew what my buddy was thinking.

Turns out my buddy, who I later learned was named Bill, was making sure I was OK. He asked me questions… “What’s your name?” “Did you enjoy your run?” “Where are you from?” At the time, I was so disoriented, I couldn’t figure out why it was so hard to get that water from him. No wonder he kept asking questions, it must have appeared that my body began using my brain cells for fuel.

As the dizziness wore off, my mind began to make logical conclusions. I asked Bill, “Are you making sure I’m OK?!” He said something like, “I’m just gonna walk you over here so they can get your timing chip and then we’ll get you your water…” I said, “OOOH! I just pushed it hard that last .2 miles, so I’m really OK… really!” I wonder what his side of the story sounds like. I bet some of those buddies have good stories to tell!

Bill and I walked shoulder to shoulder – he had one arm around my shoulder… his other arm had the hand that held the water… I threw my foot up on the crate as the timing-chip-remover-person zipped that Velcro anklet away. It was nice not to have to bend over to do THAT! Bill continued with me, and let me chat senselessly as he loosened the water cap and awarded me my medal.

Well how about that! A designated finish buddy… and everyone got one! Talk about feeling important. I thought that was so cool. What great volunteers – finish buddies, cheer-ers, aid station sponsors… all of them out in the rain. Good people. Good People. Bill said his wife was at the last aid station before the finish. I remember that one. I passed up the water, but I heard their cheering probably a full mile before I got there. And since everything is all about me, certainly those cheers were just for me! Right? :)

So, Bill (I sure hope I remember your name right… my head was still fuzzy when I asked you your name) thanks for being there, and thank your wife for me too!

Olivia is grounded from scissors for a week. You see, she’s 5 – not 3 or 2 – she’s 5. She should be WELL past the “cut one’s own hair stage”. She broke ground on that phase a couple of years ago and tended the land for quite some time. However, she grew out of it… RIGHT???

Nay. She cut her hair the other day. Thankfully, it wasn’t 2 weeks before a wedding she was a flower girl in, nor was it cut by a friend she gave the scissors to, nor was it a lot of hair. In fact, I probably would not have noticed if her Daddy didn’t tell me.

Her consequence – no scissors for a week and after that she must ask permission to use scissors EVERY time until Halloween. I was mad when I found out, so that last part of the consequence is now my consequence too.

Well, my little darling loves making things. Loves. Luh-huvs. What might a 5 year old girl who has no idea how to exist without making a “project” do without scissors? I’ll tell you… she’ll get foamy paper and a butter knife – and “cut” shapes. I guess she figured out a butter knife won’t cut paper, so she found something that would.

She’s resourceful – I’ll give her that; and “technically” she obeyed the consequence too. Y’all see what I’m up against? I don’t even think I can TRY to think like Olivia does… *holding my nose with one hand and waving the other above my head as I demonstrate someone drowning in a sea of “Oh-My-Heckness“*

Where do I begin? Sunday was AWSOME! Stinkin' beautiful! We loaded the kids, swung by Katie and Ellie's to meet up with their family, and then stopped by Starbucks to get that extra little “kick”.

We made it to the “Start” about an hour later without a hitch. It was a bit chilly, and I debated on whether to let the car go with my warm-up shirt or not. I did let it go, and it was a good decision – at least for most of the course. Then we headed straight for the Sani-Can line, you know, to take care of last-minute business.

The race started on time, with a big sun break that made me thankful almost immediately that I didn't have my warm-up on! The first two miles were fast and fun and bright. I believe it was flat. If not, there may have been a slight downward slope because we completed those first two in 16 minutes – which means – 8 minute miles! Oh my heck! I only run that fast (OK, “fast” means different things for different people) during my infrequent interval training – like 2 minutes straight, not 16 minutes straight! By mile 5 we had “slowed” to 9 minute miles,. Which was still 40 seconds faster than our 5-mile race a few weeks earlier.

Speaking of fast, I should mention the gentleman that passed us around mile 2 or 3. He looked like he could have been 70-ish, but was probably older because he is probably the kinda guy that looks young for his age. Impressive, inspiring. We never saw him again, he was GONE. Again, stinkin' beautiful, I want to be doing that at that age too – with 2 gray braids resting on my shoulders.

We finally reached the hilly portion I had read about. We walked a little up one particularly steep incline, of course there was a downhill or two that warranted a bit of caution as well. It seemed we rolled in and out of curve and hill. All the while, we breathed a bit heavier than on our normal runs, but took in the beauty of the North Olympic Discovery Trail.

I have a hard time discerning what happened when between miles 4 and 11. Probably because I was focused on keeping pace and findng a couple of Sani-Cans. Scattered throughout the trail were chalked words of encouragement. I was surprised how truly encouraging those were. There were aid stations sponsored by different groups every mile. I think it was the mile 6 aid station that taped down rows of yellow balloons decorated with happy faces. That'll put a spring in your step! That, and water…

Mile 11. Oh mercy. 2.1 miles to go. After 11 miles, why did 2.1 more seem so horrible and mean and cruel and evil? I remember thinking, “I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this,” Then, “I need to throw-up. I need to throw-up. I need to throw-up. I need to throw-up. I need to throw-up.” Then, “I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this. I can't do this.” Then, “ONE, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, TWO, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, THREE, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,.”.

A little nugget about me and my head – I count eight counts of eights over and over when I need to conquer physical hurdles. And boy, was I a-countin'. I’ll try to anticipate how many sets of 8 it'll take me to get from one point to another – that patch of grass… that stick, that corner and that puddle,

Around 11.5 miles the Carb BOOM! must have finally hit and that impending feeling of doom and destruction passed. We scurried through our mile 12 aid station – stocked with an enthusiastic group that most certainly gave me as much of a boost as the Carb BOOM!

Way back at mile 3 or 4 or 5 or somewhere a light mist had begun to fall. It was reminiscent of the misters at theme parks (Moment of Clarity – I am talking about water misters that keep people cool in those awful lines not “shady” men “misters“)… Miles later that light mist turned a bit heavier. By the time we hit mile 9 or 10 it was just rain. Cold rain. Piece of cake, right? We ran in sleet/snow and rain at the Seattle Half in November. All I know is around mile 11 I was wanting long sleeves, a fire, and bowl of soup… and a sofa… and a blanket.

Could it be?! Look! Just ahead! I see letters! F I N I S H. What does that spell? I believe if you sound it out carefully you'll hear, “Glooooooooooorrrrrrrrraaaaaayyyyyyyyy!”

Somewhere, somehow, from some dark recess of our minds, Katie and I found a few more ounces of “get up and go” for the Last. Point. Two. Miles. It seems insanity is our “safe place”. I remember counting again, “ONE, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, TWO, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, THREE, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight,.”

2:05:45. That was the last number I remember seeing on that glorious finish line clock. Can you see my smile? I was HOPING for 2:15, DREAMING of 2:10,but 2 Oh flippin' 5 and some change? Our 12-mile run the week before was 2:08. Crazy. Crazy!

Now my time was a bit different than the official time. I stopped the clock at the potty-breaks. Today I’ll just give the official results: Chip time – 2:05:22; Finish time – 2:05:48; Age Group – 23/72; Women Overall – 159/692; Overall – 345/1041

Oh, but I’m not done! Now I need to go write about my “Finish Buddy”, Bill. I never had a finish buddy before! Oh, and I forgot to complain about my soreness, and the stomach ache…

It's crazy to realize that you are already 5 years old Olivia! How'd you get so big so fast? Where have the years gone? It seems like only a short time ago that I learned I was pregnant with you. I remember sitting in my bed, sorting through pictures of your big brother early on the morning of “September 11th”. I flipped on the news. It was early and your big brother was still sleeping. I had just learned you were on your way and was feeling the need to get organized.

I turned on the television just after the first airplane hit the World Trade Center. In the moments I was working to get things in place before your birth in 8 months, the world changed. In that moment I knew you coming into a very different world. ,Some of your peers would be children who lost their parents on that day, and in the months to come we entered war.

Olivia Grace, Peace and grace coming into a world of turmoil and war. You are just what the world needs. I am not expecting you to save the world, hon. I'm crazy, but I haven't quite reached that level – yet. I just see the effect you have on the world around you. You make people smile and forget about the chaos around. To the contrary, you draw others into the chaos around you, but your chaos is pink, frilly, shaded with blue eye shadow and pink lipstick. Your world is accessorized with headbands, purses, clips, batons, pom-poms, pretty shoes and nail polish. Your innocent zest and excitement bring joy to those you are near. At the supermarket I see smile after smile as you twirl and dance to the beat of your own drum.

Fearless, the little sister,the big sister, the middle child, Our friends all know that if you take a fall, 90% of the time you'll pop right up with an, “I'm OK!” I remember the time a few months ago you and I headed to a gas station bathroom, and you took an impressive spill outside the floor to ceiling windowed doors. A shoe flew off in the tumble. You popped right up, as if absolutely nothing had happened. Nothing! We walked in the store, and no one inside missed the show. All were waiting – it seemed they all still had their hands cupped over their mouths in held gasps, As we walked through I heard, one after another, “Wow”, “Oh my goodness”, “She's a tough one”, I simply nodded and affirmed what I already knew about my frilly little princess whose middle name truly is “Grace”.

Your siblings, my greatest joy is when you three have found a place of contentment together. Your laughs are so rich and full – three-part harmony. You love to try to mother Lucy, but she doesn't like to be mothered by her big sister. However, there are the tickles and those kisses at night. Joel and you have a relationship that covers the span of sibling love and fury. You guys play like you're the best friends ever, and then I see you fight as impressively as I ever did with my little sister. I guess it's in the blood.

I wonder what you'll remember about this time in your life, Will you remember all your containers/purses of collections? Will you remember your obsession with water projects? Will you remember your obsession with painting and coloring and cutting and gluing and glittering? Will you remember painting your own nails – my friends are impressed at how good you are at painting your own nails as well as others. I think you have a steadier hand than I! How about your intense love of pretty shoes, growing your nails long (oh, how do you keep a 4/5 year olds long nails clean???), dresses, dresses, dresses, dancing, and parades down the stairs with your friends? Forts and tents and pillows. Oh my goodness pillows and blankets. Water? Will you remember all the water projects? If you do not, your mother will, and she will never let it go,

You are like a little Renaissance girl, who loves snacks. When you are grown, read your Olivia books. Your life is nearly a mirrored reflection of that character. That's a great way to describe you – a character. I love you Olivia Grace. I am constantly reminded that God is teaching me peace and grace through our journey together. As you grow, I am growing too. Thank you for helping me see life through your innocence and joy. Forgive me for not always being so lighthearted when I fail to see life through your pink-colored lenses. I count it a joy and blessing to be your mommy and I am working hard to be the kind of mom you need.

This is a little late, but – HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEETHEART! I hear you call your dollies “sweetheart” too). You truly have a sweet heart. I pray that your 5th year is a wonderful year for you. I pray kindergarten is a world of excitement and learning. I selfishly pray you stop spilling things so much. I pray for protection, health and utter joy. 5 has already brought you the chance to be in your first parade – as a baton twirler – what a way to start off being 5! You'd better watch out though, Auntie Kerry and Mommy may buy their own batons and give you a run for your money. We're pretty competitive, and girl… it doesn't matter how old you are.

Love you baby.

That’s what Katie said a few miles into our half-marathon this morning. She felt bad for “lying” to the hearers of her comment, so she confessed – as she ran – “No, I didn’t really eat a jelly donut… I actually feel like throwing up my whole grain oatmeal! Heeheeahawhaw….”
Oh my gosh, she made me laugh… Everyone needs a Katie in their life :)

There’s much more to tell about the race today, but I’ll wait until the pain subsides… Oh wait. We finished in 2:03:30. We cut 15 minutes off our Seattle Half time. That’s good stuff too…

My tank top is clean. My shorts are clean. My shoes are dirty, but I didn’t wanna wash ‘em too close to the race. I can’t find my number-holder-strap thing. Dang. My fanny pack has 3 Gu’s, 2 Carb BOOM!s, 10 Endurolyte capsules, a bottle of Ibuprofen, water, and 4 baby wipes (that Gu is STICKY!).

My “before I leave the house” pile has my vitamins and a bottle of pain killers for the special kind of pain only women get once a month. Yay me. I get to run a half-marathon on day #2. Yippee skippy!

I’ve consumed a great deal of water this afternoon, because I forgot all morning. I forgot to take my vitamins too, but I still took some C (rumor has it Vit. C helps prevent that ammonia dilemma). I took a little nap and iced my knee. For some reason it’s been hurting today. That’s funny, it usually only hurts after I’ve run a bit. Hmmm… I ran into my physical therapist earlier this morning and told him about my new pain. I confessed I didn’t intend to see him about it until after the race. He was kind enough to show me a stretch I can do if it flares up during the race. Nice man. He’d like it if I’d bike more… says it’s easier on the knees. He’s right.

I’m off… to pack the kid’s gear for tomorrow. The clan and katie’s family will be dropping us off and waiting at the finish. We have such supportive families. A special thank you to my hubby who has let me take the last 8 Saturdays to run long… and has had to endure my ammonia theories, sore muscles, and knee complaints. You’re Superey Superson babe :)