Anniversary

Lake Erie today. Can't tell the lake from the sky. I wish the goofus hanging over the dock hadn't been in the picture, but I never even noticed him.

Today I have been married twelve years, which by my calculation means I was eleven on our first day of wedded bliss. Because I kind of like the whole list making blog from the derby, I am setting out again.

Those 12 years included, but were not limited to (I get this line from writing job descriptions):

4 cities, 3 apartments, and 2 homes

1 law degree and passed bar exam

7 employers, 1 downsizing

1 St. Bernard with IBS

12 vacations: including 1 honeymoon in Yellowstone, where we shared a bathroom with all the guests of Old Faithful Lodge; 1 camping trip in Maine that resulted in sleeping in the back of the borrowed Blazer; 1 trip to Florida during Hurricane Francis; and 1 trip to Delaware without cable TV which equaled a marathon viewing of the entire first season of The OC.

246 great inventions by Scott, which other people stole

7 vehicles: including 1 blue bird Escort AKA "WT" that lost part of its muffler in the final stages before death, and 1 red Jetta that made it through the Hookahville swamp of 2000 unassisted when all other autos had to be dislodged by hundreds of rain soaked hippies

1 hour and 15 minutes of active labor (1 hour for Morgan, 15 minutes for Zoe)

2 beautiful offspring

Scott and I are not good about the whole anniversary thing. The year Morgan was born, we completely forgot. I like to think it is because our life is so full with the above, it seems silly to remember one day.

Today Scott got up for a long bike ride, to get back in triathlon mode after the marathon. The girls and I "slept in" together, which in Zoe's terms is 7 o'clock. We bought plants for attempt at a vegetable garden, we had a picnic at the beach, I took the girls to the playground, and Scott got his car washed. Pretty much a perfect day!

Road to Kindergarten - Episode 2

Morgan graduated from preschool last night, during which she won the prestigious "perfect attendance" award with one other little girl. Gift certificate to a local ice cream shop. She couldn't have been more proud.

Nana Turtle pointed out that has a lot to do with her thin medical file! Score another one for me.

Papa Turtle looked to the future and saw multiple college scholarships coming her way. I'm all for that. Although first we have to get past that pesky letter and number recognition. I'm fairly confident.

She also shushed a fellow classmate as they were arranging themselves to sing a song, so I foresee tackling the "Teacher's Pet" conundrum. Ugh!

They all wore handmade mortar boards, and I noted that there was a shocking lack of quality control in the assembly, as Morgan's was way too big for her head and kept falling off. She blamed Rory for knocking it, but kept replacing it with determination and a little help from another Butterfly named Ava, who is the spitting image of a young Lindsey Lohan if you remember The Parent Trap re-make.

I can't believe the school year went by so quickly and we are on to summer "vacation" which will include Safety Town, more swim lessons, an attempt at ballet lessons, Daisy Scouts and all the other things that make the word "vacation" inappropriate.

P.S. Happy birthday to our dear little Zoe, who turned 2 today. In typical 2nd child fashion, she got two candles in a Little Debbie snack cake. Relax, her real party is this weekend. I'm a little worried what the "terrible twos" have in store for us.

From the Department of Health and Safety

We have a family membership to a gym. It's a nice place, but monthly rates are reasonable. Lately my visits have been limited to taking the girls to their swim lesson, but that's another story. This story starts after this Monday's lesson.

I usually take the girls to one of the private "family" locker rooms to rinse them off and wash the chlorine out of their hair. It's easier than trying to deal with the women's room and the multiple shower stalls. The family rooms are like a big personal bathroom.

Morgan likes one better than the other, because it is wheelchair accessible and has a seat that can be pulled down in the shower. You know her delicate condition. God forbid she have to stand up to take a shower. So we make our way there and I turn on the light.

I notice something on the ground near the toilet and on closer inspection see that it is human feces. Yes, that is right. Then I look at the toilet itself and it is covered in it and toilet paper. (Sorry, no pictures.) I quickly removed the girls to the other family room. This room didn't have any towels left, so I had to run back to the women's room.

Since one of the housekeeping ladies was there I informed her of the situation. She slowly shook her head and asked, "Who does that?"

I had no answer for her at the time, but here are several possibilities I've come up with.

1. Someone disgruntled with the club. But this is ridiculous. That doesn't hurt the club? The only person that hurts is the poor woman who has to clean it up. And what the hell do you have to be disgruntled about in a health club? Did they give your tennis court time to someone else? If so, why don't you go take a dump on the tennis court? If you're going to do it...do it right!

2. Juvenile delinquents being funny. I'm not sure who started the rumor that spreading disease through your excrement is a way to stick it the man, but somehow this has caught on. I find this one hard to believe as well, because they only people besides us that seemed to be in club that night were there for some sort of tennis clinic. A bunch of young ladies in short white skirts starting at the pro with puppy-dog eyes. There was no way they could make that mess without endangering the pristine-ness of their outfits.

3. Spawn of Satan children. But Zoe's disqualified because she was with me the whole time and is on her best behavior during swim lessons, because Miss Mary might dunk her if she doesn't. And even if it had been Zoe on a rampage or just uncontrollable diarrhea, this mom would have cleaned it up herself, no matter how many times I had to puke in the process.

So I am out of ideas. Feel free to take of few of your own guesses.

Cleveland Marathon

Just got back from the Cleveland Marathon, or as I like to call it, a bunch of crazy people running down the city streets. It was a beautiful day, actually. Cold in the shade, but warm enough in the sun.

Girls stayed with Nana and Papa, so it felt a little weird to not be hurrying to just miss him at the finish line. A new vantage point for me.

I got to Lakewood in time to see the first runner make the westside turn. 1. Those front runners are wiry little bastards. 2. Half of the non-front runners already looked miserable. Granted, some of those people were only half-marathoners, so they were halfway done, and perhaps halfway to an aid station. I will never understand enjoying something that brings you so much pain. (Except how much I love boybands even though I know they always break up.)

My co-worker Gregg ran by with the 3:10 pace group, smile on his face and waving at me before I even realized it was him. Same guy who told me that after he finished the year before, all his muscles seized up and he was paralyzed for a few minutes. Yeah, sign me up.

Scott ran by with the 3:20 pace group, so after that I was off to Burger King for a Diet Coke and a sausage, egg, and cheese sandwich. Yummy.

Downtown, was not quite so mellow. By the time I got down there, parked and walked the couple blocks, those half-ers were finishing so the crowd was pretty thick. I read a book for a little while and watched the winner of the full marathon come in around 2 hours and 20 minutes.

Other things I could do in 2 hours and 20 minutes.

1. Watch a movie.

2. Read Jen Lancaster's new book...if I had it in my possession...which I do not...life is cruel.

3. ...

I can't even think of anything else I would like to do for 2 hours and 20 minutes except nap.

Along the way, I saw this guy

This is a dad I can get behind. Willing to paint his daughters toenails, while watching a marathon.

But I also saw this guy.

He still had his 10K bib pinned to his shorts, and I caught him doing hacky-sac for a while before the runners started coming in (what is it 1995?). He is obviously too cool for school and is hopefully not breeding.

Scott came in at the blistering 3:20 pace! And I'm not being sarcastic. That's actually really good. Especially for a first time. Now, if could get him to sit still and relax for that long. That would be INSANE.

Gregg came in about 15 minutes later, but then made the fatal flaw of introducing me to his parents as "my boss" which made me feel really old and therefore he is on my shit-list, so I'm not posting his picture.

I now have about 5 hours before my parents start calling and wondering when I'm going to pick up my children. So I can either run a couple marathons....

Mother of the Year

I just want to note that as I'm writing this, there is literally golf ball-size hail coming down outside.

Sometimes my kids sleep in their clothes.

I've been known to let them eat spaghetti o's with meatballs five nights in a week (Meat, vegetable, carb plus a glass of milk for dairy - all four food groups covered) Sidebar: I am convinced that fruits and vegetables used to be in the same food group. But I cannot find any proof of this.

They watch WAY more than 1 hour of television a day.

Zoe has eaten Oreos for breakfast.

I told my kids to "eat on the floor because I haven't cleaned it yet"! No joke.

In case you haven't noticed, I am not the most anal person when it comes to cleanliness. Organized - yes, clean - no. I'm sure most people would prefer the other way around, but as long as my bookshelf is free from clutter, the inch-layer of dust does not bother me.

And because I tend to read housekeeping manuals like they are novels, I often feel a little guilty about how unconcerned I am in this department. I want to mop my kitchen floor after every meal and suck up the Potter hair a couple times a week. I do.

But I also want to read my kids stories, and watch my DVR recordings, and maybe go to the gym. So until I can get by on 4 hours of sleep, like Scott, it's not going to happen.

I have recently been feeling less guilty. You may have heard me say that I think kids should eat a cup of dirt a day to build up an immune system. And I have now been vindicated. (Is that the right word?)

Upon Morgan's five-year-check up, Nurse Carrie was thumbing through her file.

Nurse: This file is so thin. I think something is missing.
Mommy: Really?
Nurse: No, its all here. She's just really healthy. Most kids' files her age are twice as thick because we've seen them other than well-visits.

HA! Take that you germ-aphobic - anti-bacterial scrubbing - anal retentive psychos!

Disclaimer: This could also be because I do not take my children to the doctor every time they have a stuffy nose or cough, so I will allow for some skewing of the statistics.

Kentucky Derby Party Recap

6 yards of mulch delivered on April 28

3 days to spread mulch by 1 adult and 2 "little helpers"

1 "vacation" day used

28 pounds of pork shoulder

12 hours to cook pork shoulder

1 tent raised

432 trips upstairs

526 trips to the basement

12 wooden yard sticks purchased, to the amusement of Home Depot

1 dress ordered from J Crew that did not arrive on time

2 Daily Racing Forms, none actually read

100 pounds of tortilla chips (50 pounds eaten)

0 prep races seen by the hosts (uncalled for)

18 miles run by Scott on the first Saturday in May

1 soccer goal made by Morgan!

5 1/2 hours between soccer game and party

6 1/2 hours of preparation to get done between soccer game and party

40 guests and 1 guitar

20 minutes before hosts said hello to their guests, because they just had to do "one more thing"

2 band aids applied

2 minutes of race

1 lucky bastard at Churchill Downs that won $900,000

1 prescription called in to pharmacy

4 containers of leftover pulled pork

1/2 quart of buffalo chick dip eaten on Sunday

2 half eaten cakes taken to work on Monday

39 guests and 1 guitar that were disappointed Chad didn't bring chocolate covered bacon

Soccer and Other Nonsense

Cup 1: If you read my prior post and remember how proud I was that I got the library to admit they were wrong, you will be happy to know that I found the Barbie's 12 Dancing Princesses DVD case in our cupboard with the rest of Morgan's movies. Oops. I waited until a different lady was working the desk to turn it in. I'm a coward.

Cup 2: Could the arctic blast that keeps knocking me over on my walk from the parking garage and causes our radiator to hammer away into all hours of the night go back to the frozen tundra where it belongs? It is almost May, for god's sake.

Cup 3: Are we having our 4th annual Kentucky Derby Party this weekend? Yes. Have we done anything to prepare other than invite people to our house? No.

And here's the actual story:

In addition to triathlons, soccer season is upon us. This is a big deal here. The kids start young. If you are 3 by April 1st you are playing. It's one of the requirements to live in this town. So if you move here and have kids and don't like soccer - get over it.

This is only our second year, because Morgan's birthday is April 6th and they make absolutely no exceptions. Because there are people like my husband that want to get their kids started out of the womb and will bribe the soccer board to get it done. (Kidding, but he did offer to coach if they would have let her in that year.)

Kids are assigned to a certain color team. Morgan is Purple this year. There are so many kids, ere go teams, that last year Morgan was on the Light Blue team. As opposed to the Dark Blue or Aquamarine team. Also last year, in an effort to get some sort of attention from 4-year-olds, the coach tried to let the kids pick an animal for the team to be (a new one every week). The first week, they were the Belugas. Courtesy of guess who?

So our first practice was last Thursday at 6pm, which is pretty much impossible to make, unless I leave work at 4. (I luckily have an understanding boss, right Bill?) Even so...I pulled into the park maybe 3 minutes late due to an unexpected diaper change. All of the kids were already ORGANIZED and running drills. Five-year-olds. I had to admit it was impressive feat for a coach, but I get the impression he has done this before.

Fortunately for me, the assistant coach and her son pulled in right behind me. We get over to the field and the coach calls for them to grab their balls and join the team. Yeah...I'm the late mom that forgot to bring her kid's ball with her. Even when specifically reminded by her husband to make sure the ball was in the car.

An extra ball is produced, which is really better anyway, since Morgan's ball has been left outside one too many times and is faded and scratched up from when Potter decides he wants to play soccer too.

I felt a little better when one of the kids kept bursting into tears every time he got kicked, because his dad forgot his shin guards. See, I take safety as my priority. She can always envision she's kicking a ball, but she will be wearing shin guards, damnit.

Morgan lasted about 5 minutes before the physical exertion caused her to drudge across the field hunched over, practically dragging her knuckles in the grass like a primate. Not a good sign. But she had a good attitude and did try very hard. Bring on game day.

This is a co-ed team of "under-5" kids and they play 4-on-4 with no goalie (and they don't even keep score..really...except we do in our head). And low and behold, something finally clicked with her. After she waved hello to her friend from preschool on the Orange team, that is. She hustled, she kicked, she fell, she got back up, she even stole the ball a couple times. I never once saw the primate drudge.

Where last year, Morgan preferred to hold the coach's hand during the game and run with him (one coach is allowed on the field at all times), this year she was right in there with boys. And yes, I admit I am one of those loud moms. Not in a bad way. I don't yell mean things. I cheer. I cheer for every kid on the team whenever they get the ball.

I think this offends people, and I don't know why. Is it because I take the time to learn all their names? Is it because I dare think that kids need encouragement? Yes, I'm yelling your kid's name, more importantly, why aren't you? I get this tiny little feeling I will be a huge embarrassment to my girls as they get. older, Might as well get it out of the way early.