Oh no. Oh No! OH NO, NO, NO!!!!!

FUUDDGGE!!! 

Only I didn't say fudge.  I said the Big Word.  The Queen Mother of all cuss words.

Not out loud, mind you. There are children about. But I did say it in my my mind and please pray for me about my language. Please.

And why did this happen?? It's Saturday morning and the coffee maker has broken.  And John isn't here so I can't go buy a new one RIGHT NOW.  I just put Annie down for a nap and I'm considering hauling her out of bed and throwing everyone in the car, jammies and all, to run to Walgreens, Target, the Grocery, anywhere because I'm panicking.  Surely my blood pressure is rising exponentially. 

The Unmentionables

It had been way too long since brand-new skivvies have been introduced to my dresser.  As in, 8-10 years too long.  As in, the rotation had dwindled to the low single-digits. So I finally took an opportunity and went to a random store in search of some undergarments.   The whole process was nearly overwhelming and I wish someone at Kohl's would have been able to just show me where the normal stuff is that doesn't have pictures of unicorns or scratchy material.  Somehow I feel help never would have come.

After poking around and wasting 20 minutes of my precious time, I grabbed some smallclothes that didn't appear atrocious and also might fit size-wise (and how does one know the right size after 10 years and 5 kids?).

Got home, opened up the package, and  was surprised at how HUGE these babies were!  I checked the box (I obviously spent loads of $$ here) and everything seemed fine.  Maybe they'll shrink in the wash.  Oh boy.  John's going to make fun of me when he sees my enormous underwear.  I'm going to be chastised for being cheap. Dang it!!! What a waste of time.  I could have taken a serious nap and now I'm stuck with hideous granny-gear.

Wash, dry, grrr.  I can't believe I'm wasting laundry detergent on these things.

So it was out of desperation the next morning that  I grabbed a pair and...they fit.  The enormous underwear I bought fit onto a bottom that I obviously believed was smaller than reality.

Depression.  Ice-cream needing depression.

Crazypants

I did two stupid things a couple days ago.

The First Questionable Act:

I gave up soda.

I've done this before and my longest streak was 2 years (?). Give or take a month or two. It ended when I was coaching track. All coaches get meal tickets at the meets and dreamy items like non-diet sodas that have been in huge ice baths for hours are there to tempt. And one day when the girls were making me a little nutso because they probably did something like not practice hand-offs before a relay AGAIN or barely warmed up for their race AGAIN or forgot all/part of their uniform AGAIN, I needed a Coke. A real one. Not that diet nastiness. I caved and it was sooooo gooood. I fell of the wagon in a state of bliss.

But now I have all these kids and I should, I really should practice what I preach about being healthy. So when I realized I was up to 3 cups of coffee and 2 sodas/day (ahhh...no wonder Annie doesn't nap well!), I figured the soda - which truly is horrible for you - needed to go. I'm two days into it and Oh My Land do I want to drive through somewhere and get a Coke.

The Second:

I signed up for a 1/2. If you run, you know that means a 1/2 marathon and this is another oh-my-word what was I thinking!??!? I don't have time (or the inclination) to clean my house, let alone put in some training. But a friend I care about sent out an email and asked if we'd help her celebrate a birthday with this race.

I debated. I hemmed. I hawed. And John said I should. So I am. And he is right.

He's right because I love my friend but I also love to run. I haven't trained for anything in years and, while speed work is no longer an option for me, it will be wonderful to make running a necessity instead of "well, what day/s can I run this week". When I'm out on a run, even though what the observer sees me doing is plodding at best, I feel free. I feel normal.

I feel crazypants.

I Still Have It

My second and third runs (they're so pathetic; I'm not sure they deserve to be called "runs") were hardly better than the first.

But a discovery made me feel a bit better. I can still impressively spit while running. Maybe 7-8 feet, wind-aided.

This may not seem like a big deal, but spitting on a run is an art form and takes practice. It can also seal the deal or dissolve a relationship and I'll address that in a bit.

As any seasoned runner knows, spitting is an unattractive necessity. The act has great potential for nastiness with poor execution (I've been on the receiving end - grody), but good quality ones are admirable, memorable even, if only by the spitter.

Rules of the Road:
1. Look before you spit, and that includes tossing in a backward glance.
2. Take into consideration wind direction and speed.
3. Always use the grass or at least avoid the sidewalk. It's just rude to make others walk through your saliva.
4. Attempt to make as little sound as possible.
5. Try not to do it around people just out for a walk. You can wait another 20 yards.
6. Practice. Practice. Practice. It's embarrassing to be an ineffective spitter. They are easily spotted because they look like they drooled all over themselves. You don't want people to think you need a bib.
7. Never EVER spit on a track. Ever. Ever. Ever.

And now for the relationship section. I knew John was the man for me when, after going on a run together (a criteria for anyone I considered dating material), he still continued to call. Not many guys would see a girl do something sort of gross and not be a little repulsed. In fact, I just asked him to make sure. He's sitting right next to me and said he didn't care (or didn't notice). True love.

And so, even though my form is awkward and my knees are questioning my sanity, my heart is a little happy because there is one eensy weensy part of my run that still works.

Sigh.

Lingering...

Trusting only in thy merit,
Would I seek thy face:
Heal my wounded, broken spirit,
Save me by thy grace.

We sang this in church two Sundays ago and it is still with me.

Yeah. That's It.

I was unglamorously trying to squeeze myself into some spanx this morning and, of course, had an audience. I always have an audience. For everything. At least Ainsley is finally at the age where if I say, "mommy needs some privacy for just a little bit", she gets it and is not offended. The other three get seriously frosted at the suggestion that I'd like to be by myself for 3 seconds.

Well, Lizzy was the lucky one intently watching me doing the deep knee bends necessary to don the "shapewear" (which doesn't work THAT well, trust me - now I'm questioning why I even bother with the stinkin' things). She was staring and staring until a huge smile took over her face and she announced "Mommy's doing ballet!!!!". Whereupon she started to do plie's and saying "I'm doing ballet, too!".

Ballet. That's exactly what I was doing.

10 Things

I'm bored. I should not be - if you saw my house you would give me the head-shake as you scan The Disaster. There's always something to do around here...

So I felt it would be a wise use of my time to come up with two lists that don't deserve the energy output I'm giving them.

10 Things I'm Enjoying These Days:


1. Listening to the kiddos talk to each other when they're supposed to be sleeping

2. Reading "chapter books" to Ainsley.

3. Being grumpy

4. An old friend's debut album. You can listen to bits and pieces here if you're feeling lazy right now. Ainsley requests "Emily's Songs" every time she's in the car.

5. Beverages. Not too many, mind you.

6. Caffeine. Lots and lots of yummy caffeine.

7. A bible study that is kicking my rear. Yes, I go to bible study and I like it. But it means I should do something about #3 and I really, really enjoy being grumpy sometimes.

8. John. We're finally staggering out of the low-budget flick Triplets: Pregnancy and The Early Years and it's nice to know he's still pretty awesome. And funny. The guy is really really funny.

I couldn't come up with 10. The next list flew off my fingertips.

10 Things I Want To Punt:

1. This woman in my area who runs with her long, long, long hair down so it's flopping all over the place. My blood pressure goes through the roof every time I see her. If you know who she is, please, please ask her to use a ponytail holder so I don't have to deal with my heart rate unnecessarily shooting into the 200's every other day.

2. My entire wardrobe that doesn't fit as nicely as it did 6 months ago

3. Germs. I think the nebulizer was turned on 5 or 6 times today and it will be more tomorrow.

4. Gray hair

5. Gray hair and zit combo - very, very unfair

6. Having to listen to the kiddos start screaming every morning between 5:30-5:45. Must. Stop.

7. The word "no". Usually expressed as "NO!!".

8. The people who ask me if we were "surprised" when we found out we were having triplets.
Listen, you may believe this a polite way to try to find out if we had medical intervention. It is not.

9. The person who discovered "fat grams". I would be better off blissfully ignorant. Now I have to battle guilt. And lose.

10. Warm diet soda.

This I Know To Be True

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." - John 1:5

Life isn't horrible, there are just some junky things right now (and really, doesn't everyone have some of that in their life?).

But this is my comfort and what fuels my hope.

Classic Kitty

The following story is a perfect example of me:

The other morning I couldn't find my cell, so I did what every other normal person does and called it from the home phone. Right after I dialed, some wiring got loose in my brain and these were my thoughts/actions:

"Oh! Someone's calling my phone! How funny! No one calls me this early! And I was just looking for it! How convenient!"

Walk over to the backpack, where my cell was ringing.

Pick up my phone and the caller id says "Home".

"Hmm! Who is calling from home? Does John have a house phone downstairs? (he works in the basement) What would he need already? Maybe the kids did this. How did they do that???"

Keep in mind that I was holding our home phone in my hand as I was confused.

I hung up my cell, turned off the handset, and didn't figure it all out until about 45 seconds later.

I am such a doofus.

Wardrobe Malfunction

I have a knack for making an idiot out of myself. Regularly. I'm not even including the ridiculous stuff that pops out of my mouth sometimes and that's so bad I'm considering duct taping my mouth shut every time I go to a social event from now until...forever.

Anywho, I've had several catastrophic and lesser clothing fiascoes in the last few years. Sure, everyone has left their zipper down in their lifetime and if it's just the pants/jeans zipper it is grouped along with the something-in-your-teeth category. I've had my share of those. No biggie.

I've also had my share of this:
1. Stopped by the mall on a SATURDAY after a luncheon (good grief did I look cute!) because I hadn't had time to buy clothing in a couple years. This is true because I had been preggers with Ainsley and then had actually worked out and was at a fun size again. Time for a reward. So, tried on some outfits at one store, obviously got redressed to wander around some more. Actually ran into an ex-student. Walked around almost the entire mall and noticed 45 minutes later (while in a dressing room trying on something else) that I had forgotten to zip up the back of my BLACK skirt and the tail of my PINK dress-shirt I had tucked in was sticking so far out it should have had a red flag dangling off the end of it because it was illegal for the roads.
2. Same skirt. Got dressed in a hurry and forgot to zip. Sweater worn this time, so instead of a shirttail for everyone to see, it was my hiney. Lots and lots of hiney. Did I mention this happened at church? And John noticed, grabbed a handful of sweater and yanked me back to him (thank you honey! really!) as I was walking down the aisle looking for a place to sit? And we were late (as usual) so everyone else was already sitting? Sigh.

Why am I posting about this? Well, we had "meet the teacher" day at Ainsley's school several days ago and I wore my summer uniform: skirt of some sort + t-shirt. No worries, right? What could go wrong? Silly, silly, Kitty. It started going south early because:
1. I had to bring the triplets with me
2. It was during snack time, which necessitated bringing in the backpack I use as a diaper bag
3. Every family in her class decided to come at the same time for the open house. (30+ bodies in the room = unavoidable chaos which is distracting)

My hands were full of 2 screaming children (Johnny and Gracie thought I was leaving them there), forms to turn in, talking to the teachers/parents/other kids, throwing snacks at the triplets, and trying to block the door so Lizzy and Johnny wouldn't escape, yet let other parents and children in at the same time (WHY do people stand in doorways? Stop that!! Or at least have the wherewithal to grab a kidlet as they are running out so I don't have to shove you aside!). Lots of bending down and lifting up and bending down again. All of this added up to my t-shirt rising up my back (unbeknown to me) and my skirt sliding down from my middle (also unbeknown to me) which resulted in a good 3" portion of my underwear-covered fanny displayed every time I leaned forward or squatted down a bit. This happened a lot because of what I mentioned at the beginning of this paragraph. After, oh, about 20 minutes (did I mention all the PARENTS that were there???) I felt a tugging on the back of my top as a fellow mom casually rearranged my clothing because "your underwear was hanging out". Ugh. Fabulous first impression. Classic.

When do I quit embarrassing myself?