Hood to Coast

Running is not really my thing.  It's the thing Rob makes me do, which I complain about and manage to quit more often than I quit drinking diet Dew.  But whereas drinking a nice, cold Dew is nice and refreshing after a long separation, running after a long break is AWFUL.  I would know.  I take lots of long breaks.  Rob doesn't.  He plugs along rain or shine, heat or cold, sick or well, shins splints, runners knee, Achilles heal, blisters, hip pain. . . well you get the idea.  And luckily he has been running long enough that he doesn't have these problems frequently anymore.

He started running about two years ago, but didn't get really serious until about a year ago, at which time he went at it like his life depended on it.  Which I guess he figured it did.  Within a couple months he had lost 50 lbs! He started looking like a kid in dressups, or a cancer patient--people actually asked if he was sick because his suits drowned him.  I may have mentioned all this before.

At any rate, a few months back a couple people that work with Rob contacted him about joining their Hood to Coast team.  It's a race where a group of 12 people run a relay from Mount Hood to Seaside, Oregon.  200 miles.  Three legs each.  Rob informed them he would think about it and get back to them.  A few days later he got an email welcoming him to the team and giving him his leg assignment. . . THE hardest leg of the run.

If I've learned one thing about Rob, it's not to tell him he can't do something.  Unless, of course, I want him to do that very thing.  He likes to prove people wrong.  Usually it's an attractive trait.  After I heard the description of his leg of the race (as posted on the OHSU Sports Medicine blog) I worried he might kill himself:

Leg 5: Thirteen miles of rolling hills are a mere warm-up to what awaits you at the end: the gnarliest hill you’ll see outside of a Swiss Miss ad. It just keeps effing GOING, and there’s nothing you and your little split shorts can do about it to make the pain stop. Do your team a favor: throw some absolute bad-ass on this set of legs, then do the honorable thing and look the other way when he’s crying at the 3-mile mark.

Fun, right!?

He was determined to do, and do it well, because even though the others gave him a hard leg, they were all pretty serious runners.  So despite not really being ready for a race that would last 36 hours and afford little to no sleep (the two hours he did get were in a sleeping bag in a farmer's field), he did remarkably well.  I am just thankful he didn't die on the way.  He was too.  He was also glad he wasn't one of the many runners he saw run until they puked and then run some more.

Did I mention they pay to be a part of all this torture?

The funniest part is that he thinks he might get me to do it with him next year!!

I may not have run the race, but my parents joined me and we drove to the coast to meet Rob at the finish line. . . and stay in a beach house and play for a few days.  THAT part of Hood to Coast I can handle, and would willing do again next year!

Keeping the Magic Alive

I like to think I am a fairly good parent.  But nobody's perfect.  That's what I tell myself in cases like this one.

With your first child, everything that happens is grand and exciting because it is a first for you as the parent as well.  I often lament being the 6th child in my own family because things apparently get less noteworthy.  The boxes of pictures of my oldest brother became a mere handful by the time I was toddling around the world. Though there are certainly other perks to being a younger sibling.  I'm not exempt to this inconsistency in parenting, although photography is one area where I differ, my youngest has far more pictures than my oldest because I took up photography after the oldest was out of diapers, but I digress.

Last week, Signe got her wish (well one of them, anyway).  She lost a tooth at school.  This is a big deal--because they make it a big deal.  She even got a certificate signed by the principal for losing her tooth at school. Despite it being the 8th tooth she has lost (which I only know because she told me, not because I kept track), she came home thrilled, proudly displaying her tiny little baby tooth in a plastic baggy, along with her certificate, like it was trophy.

As it turns out, it was probably a good thing somebody made a big deal out of it, because apparently it wasn't going to be me! At least, not in a way that would make my seven year old happy.

The first night Signe forgot to put the tooth under her pillow for the tooth fairy.  Shocking in and of itself, but not as shocking as what was about to happen. . . twice!

The second night she had a sleepover at a friend's house and so didn't put the tooth under her pillow.

The third night, she remembered.  With giddy excitement she tucked the tooth under her pillow and snuggled down to sleep, bidding us all to hurry and go to sleep so the tooth fairy would come.  Rob and I then had what we like to call our parent party, which means we do whatever we want, kidless.  On this night we watched a movie and went to bed.

Did you catch that?  We watched a movie. . . and then went to bed.

Monday morning:

"Mom! The tooth fairy didn't come!  I put my tooth under my pillow and it was still there this morning!" She holds up the baggy as proof of the tooth fairy's negligence.  Did I mention she had a friend over for a sleep over? I was on the verge of destroying not only my daughter's innocent belief in magic, but her friend's as well.

Crap.

"That's weird."  I say, and rack my brain for an excuse--for the tooth fairy, of course.  "Maybe she. . . "

"Is she even real?!" Sig asks, hand limp at her side, baggy dangling, face crestfallen.

"Of course she's real!" Avery argues.  "Just like Santa!"

"But magic is not real."  Signe states, more as a challenge than as a matter of fact.

"Sometimes magic IS real." I tell her.  I am not handling this well.  Luckily, Signe's brilliance saves me.

"Oh!" She suddenly shouts. "It's Labor Day! That's probably why she didn't come!"

Relief.

I have a second shot at being a good parent--that is, if you believe lying to your kids about made up things like Santa and the Tooth Fairy is good parenting. I tend to think it is--childhood should be magical as long as possible.

"I bet you're right! Let's try again tonight." I say, then chant in my mind, "Don't forget. Don't forget, DON'T forget!"

But then Signe forgets to put it under her pillow for two nights.  It might have had something to do with excessive Taekwondo practice and loads of homework and various other exhausting activities.

As a side note, last year we let Hannah in on the whole magic gig.  She understands that the magic of Santa is one we create--which doesn't make it less real--and things like the tooth fairy are really just us parents, keeping the magic alive.  She was on to us anyway, and she loves being in on the conspiracy now.  She gets to help make the magic now, which is WAY more cool.

Okay, Wednesday night, during our parent party (TV and popcorn--the usual), Hannah sneaks down and clues us in:

"I thought you should know that Signe just put her tooth under her pillow." It's good to have her on our side now because clearly we need her help.

"Perfect! Thanks for the reminder." At which time we finish our show. . . and then we go to bed.

"Again! The tooth fairy didn't come AGAIN!"  Signe wails as she runs into my room the following morning.  Hannah hurries in behind her and throws her hands in the air, a look of disbelief and disgust on her face.  Seriously, I think she might just find some money to put under Signe's pillow herself if I don't remember again.  But first, damage control.

"Oh my goodness!  What could possibly make her not come again?"  No really, what excuse could fix this?  Got any ideas? I didn't.  "Maybe so many kids have lost teeth that she is behind schedule?"

She looks at me, eyes narrowed, considering.

"Oh! I know what it was!" My husband jumps in.  "I forgot and I set the alarm. I bet she couldn't get in because she didn't want to set off the alarm!"

Aaaand she buys it.  Jeez we are bad parents.   That night she speculates to Rob about why the tooth fairy really keeps forgetting.  Maybe her tooth is too dirty and not good enough.  Maybe the tooth fairy is on a new schedule.

Maybe I had better not forget again!

Last night. I sneak into her room. . . and can't find her tooth under her pillow, or anywhere.  I suggest putting the money under there anyway, but Rob reminds me it might look bad if she finds her tooth later.  Luckily I spot it on my nightstand.  I decide I will tell her I put it under for her and I stash the tooth with her previously lost seven (because keeping baby teeth isn't gross or anything), and tuck a $5 bill under her pillow.  Yes I am trying to buy her off.  It's been a week since she lost her tooth, the tooth fairy probably owes interest or something.

This morning? Happiness and dancing.  Phew.  She did try and fake me out though.  She came in all sad and tried to pretend the tooth fairy had forgotten again, then whipped out the money to show me she HAD come. . . finally.

Next time I better not forget.  She has several more to loose, it could get kind of spendy.

It's really a good thing I only have two kids.  Just imagine what I might forget if I had more, let alone EIGHT like my own mother.

What have YOU forgotten lately?

The Adventures of Cowboy Jones

If you can't remember what it was like to be a child, one that uses their own imagination instead of just playing video games, I could lend you my daughter.  Or at least give you a glimpse into her world.  Sometimes its a little harry in there, but I guarantee you WILL be entertained.  I like to think her vast and varied imagination comes from me. . . but sometimes it's so full of crazy it can only be blamed on Rob!

Remember, this is the same girl who told me she only really saw the things in her head, not the real world, and that she didn't want to grow up and lose her magic.  I hope she doesn't.

A couple weeks ago the girls had dentist appointments.  Our dentist gives you tokens as a reward and they have a couple machines in the lobby where you can redeem them for trinkets--bouncy balls, magic growing foam creatures, temporary body tattoos, bracelets, etc.  Signe put in her token and out popped a. . . fake mustache.

One might assume that a seven year old girl would be disappointed by such a reward.  But no, her eyes narrowed, the wheels in her head started spinning.  Then a grin popped onto her face, accompanied by a little giggle.


We drove home. I forgot about her prize and went about my day.  About a half hour later, a stranger emerged from our playroom. . .

I laughed.  Then said, "It's Mustache Louie!"

(Mustache Louie has been a joke in the house since Hannah started 6th grade and came home from her first day of riding the middle school/high school bus slightly horrified that a kid on her bus had a mustache!--her emphasis.  We nick named him Mustache Louie.)

She had me take this series of pictures to make it look like she was moving!

"No! I'm Cowboy Jones!" She corrected me.  "And I need to go next door." To show her friend Avery, of course.  As luck would have it, Avery was at the door.

She had to add gloves because she had on purple nail polish which might give it away that she was actually a girl!

After Signe got over the disappointment of not getting to surprise her friend, the two of them concocted their own surprise plan, unbeknownst to me.  It went something like this. . .

Avery and Signe rode their bikes (aka horses) back to Avery's house (Avery just got a new very big bike and they were obsessed with riding bikes--especially around the loop, which required grownup supervision).

Avery went in her front door and Signe waited on the stoop.

"Hey Mom and Dad! I got tired of waiting for Signe to get back and so I rode my bike around the loop by myself!" and quickly before the parents' astonished faces could turn into admonishments. "And I found a new boy to play with. . . and here he is!" Grand gesture toward front door followed by sweeping entrance of Si-- I mean Cowboy Jones.

Again, imagine motion--her idea.  

Then, as fun as that was, they decided they could stretch more fun out of a free, fake mustache (and a leather vest and cowboy hat from Hannah's Jessie [Toy Story] Halloween costume--age 2), so they trekked off to find Avery a suitable side kick costume.

And shortly thereafter we have. . .

Rodeo Clown Kate!  (My camera battery had died by then so all I got was a bad cell phone picture.) Sig wouldn't smile because she was "a man".

The two swapped costumes and played for hours.  THAT is what childhood is really all about!

Happy Friday!