The Day I Didn't Walk of Defecate Myself

Well...it's been a week or so and I've been slacking on the updates but I'm here now to let y'all know that running long distances is probably not the best idea I've ever had. Seriously. I think a part of me died the day of my first Half Marathon. That part of me was from the waste down. Not kidding.... I left Atlanta with what I think were two broken knees, a sprained ankle, and a bum hip. I felt like I was eighty six years old when I finally finished. (Okay, okay - I didn't really injure anything, but you SURE AS HELL could have fooled me in the few post-race hours.)

Freezing pre-race at 7am start!

Let's start with a re-cap of my goals for this race. (You can always read my pre-race blog here too!) My mental notes throughout the race were as follows:

"Do NOT, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES crap yourself."

I know, this isn't a very lady-like topic, but this is the real deal and it needs to be discussed. Just in case you aren't into endurance type sports - let me give you a heads up. People WILLINGLY defecate themselves and marinade in their feces all the time during these things. NO JOKE HERE. They really do! And I, being a modest, I-will-break-your-legs-if-you-so-much-as-THINK-of-beating-me competitive type of person, was willing to lose a to the obnoxiously skinny yet sort of weirdly muscular Kenyan if I needed to "drop a load," if you will. I was okay with it, believe it or not. I was NOT okay however, with being unsanitary during this race....I was already going to be sweaty, and that's gross enough. Task completed. No bodily waste left my body during those couple hours.

"Do NOT walk."

Mission accomplished. Can I get a "Whoop Whoop?" (whoop! whoop!) Alright, I may have "slowed down" through two of the water/feed stations (yes, a "feed" station....like we were cattle or something. Oh, and I was herded into Corral G at the start. For real. We started in CORRALS. Like I said - cattle.), but I had done my mascara and makeup that morning and there was no way I planned on sloshing Gatorade all up my face while trying to imbibe the oh-so-needed drink and risk ruining what little bit I still had left on my face. Some things are just not worth it.

"Tumble over the finish line."

Mission NOT accomplished. BOO! There were a bunch of peeps in my way or I TOTALLY would have done at least a cartwheel. I was, and still am, annoyed. Let's not talk about it.

Some people just couldn't hang long enough to see the finish!

It's the EYE OF THE TIGER!! Rounding the corner to the finish

All done and still on our feet!! HOODIE HOO!!

A few noteworthy items that I noticed during the whole race experience.

TRUE endurance athletes will organize their race packets.

I was informed by a friend that this is a necessary part of race preparation. (This friend by the way is an absolutely OUT-OF-HIS-EVER-LOVIN' MIND obsessive endurance athlete. Seriously. He's an IronMan (you like how I bolded the word "IronMan?" I feel like it gives the name more UMPHF when read, like it deserves. Read it again and let me know what you think.) who will all in one day, run a full marathon, swim across the Pacific Ocean, ride a bike from Cali to New York, wrestle alligators in the Sahara Desert (do they even HAVE alligators in the Sarhara? I didn't think so...yep, that's how good he is.), all the while wearing spandex. Yep. Enjoy that mental image that just popped in your mind.) Okay, now....really?? I have to ORGANIZE theadvetisements that race sponsors put in a plastic baggie for me? The only important piece of information I needed from that bag was the course map (in case I needed to find a short-cut at about mile 5 or 6! At that point, I figured I wouldn't be above using a one. You gotta do what you gotta do, right?)

Atlanta, GA is apparently built in the mountains. For real. The Rocky Mountains I think. Not the weenie Smokies. But whatever...Downtown Atlanta has mountains. And my quadraceps felt every last incline.

Did you know that African American children are an endangered species? I passed an anti-abortion billboard that said that at mile 8. I had no clue....

People are wasteful. I saw more people throw away clothes on that run, than I've ever seen at any Goodwill or Plato's Closet before. I was jumping over sweatshirts and t-shirts left and right. I understand getting overheated while running, but really?? Tie your shirt around your waist! My husband would have KILLED me if I started throwing away clothes. Especially the cute Nike stuff I'd bought just for this occasion. But I'll be honest, the main reason I didn't was because I didn't want to scare small children. Like I've said before....nobody wants to see this post-partumness.

Race finishers! Kelly, Storm, & Me!

Overall, the whole experience was actually a super fun one, and despite all my nay-saying, I will definitely run in one again. Next time I just plan on training properly before. Because maybe then, I'll be able to walk the week after.

The Day After Tomorrow

Alright, this post is going to be short and sweet. I know a lot of people use their blogs as sort of an outlet and a way to reach people and ask for help. So I'm doing just that.

I need prayers. Lots. Lots of GOOD prayers. Lots of good and GENUINE prayers.

Seriously. This weekend may be the end of what we all know (and hopefully love) of....me.

Yep. It's here. DDay. Dreaded Day. Or DEAD Day as the case may be. The day of my very first HALF-I-MUST-BE-OUT-OF-MY-EVER-LOVIN-MIND-MARATHON!!! Seriously? What was I thinking? I tried to explain why I registered in an earlier blog, but now...well, crap. I have no idea.

So I was all uber-pumped up about my first long distance race after I signed up for it, but then it happened. I was training, running, ya know - doing my half-marathon preparation thing - and BAM! It hit.

Burnout.

I just stopped running.

Okay, okay - I've done a short three or four mile run here and there since the burnout hit, but honestly, for the past month, I've maybe ran a total of five miles. Yes. FIVE!! And I plan on running THIRTEEN POINT ONE day after tomorrow. (Wasn't "Day After Tomorrow" a movie about the end of the Earth? Yep - that's about where I'm at.) This is going to be bad. So that's why I need some prayers. Because, quite literally, I might die. This could be the end of me as we know it. So any shout outs to the Big Guy upstairs on my behalf would be great!

 A few notes on this weekend's shenanigans...

I will go ahead and actually go to Atlanta to run, despite every instinct of mine telling me not to...

I WILL let the weather decide on my fate (Weather.com called for thunderstorms early Sunday morning and I'm praying the I-never-get-one-forecast-correct website FINALLY gets something right!)...

I WILL NOT be so competitive (despite my crazy O.C.D. competitive nature) that I don't stop to pee if nature calls...(I also discussed this disturbing common occurrence during marathons in my earlier blog.)

I'm not above Tweeting while running/walking/crawling/dying during the 13.1 miles if they allow me! Be on the lookout!

I HAVE done what some call "mind training" for this race, however. I learned this from an old friend and roommate in college. To properly train this way, you just have to think really hard about what you're about to do. And let me tell you - it's exhausting.

I've thought long and hard about running. Not just running, but running THIS race in hilly, downtown ATL. And I think it's working. My mind feels up to the challenge. My friend even suggested to wear baggy clothes and use weights while thinking, but I bypassed that part. I can only handle so much strenuous thinking activity in one day, ya know?

Anyway, in closing, I have to be the annoying Devil's Advocate that my friends say I am....a few positive notes about this weekend.....my mind is trained and ready to go, I'll get to visit and stay in downtown Atlanta (which I've heard is the bomb diggity), I won't get rained on, and I won't have piss running down my legs.

Hotlanta here I come!!

Embracing My Inner Miley

So I want to thank Short Sassy Mama for the inspiration on this post. I'm so glad I'm not the only one who suffers from this type of horrible thing...
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So we all have celebrities we love, right? And then we all have celebrities that annoy us, correct? Well, I have some peeps who I adore and some peeps I dislike. We'll cover those I like first.

 I'm a product of the mid to late 90's/early 2000's pop culture. The NSYNC and Britney Spears era of pop music. So naturally I tend to gravitate towards those celebrities I grew up with.

Clarification: I mean this only in that these are the artists who I "grew up with" so to speak. That doesn't mean that I don't or didn't like older music and older artists of my time, from Vanilla Ice (oh, who could forget that sweet 'do on top of his head or the Ninja Turtle cameo that pumped us all up with "GO NINJA! GO NINJA GO!!??) to Mariah Carey (how about the time she literally went crazy on TRL with Carson Daly. Classic 90's. Oh, and speaking of Carson Daly - what ever happened to him and his black nail polish?? I miss that awkward nerd who tried so hard to be cool.).

I just happen to feel a stronger connection with Britney, Christina, & Jessica due to our closeness in age and their rise to the scene timed so perfectly with my own personal decision that I wanted dye my hair blonde and be a famous singer and dance around on stage wearing a sparkly nude colored skin suit. We're just tight like that.

Anyway, I digress.

So basically - I have celebrity musicians that I like (i.e. old-school Britney as seen in the picture to the right). And then I have celebrity musicians who I don't like. Take example A, B, and C pictures below. All of whom's fan clubs I do NOT belong to.

Lady Nasty Gaga

Miley Cyrus

Rhianna

So basically, and for a number of reasons, I'm not a big fan of these three ladies. Reasons run anywhere from what their painful ear stabbing voices sound like to their I-think-I'm-going-to-make-a-"STATEMENT"-this-time-so-the-magazines-will-put-my-picture-on-the-cover fashion style.

The TOP reasons for my dislike for them is that ALL THREE have the qualities listed below.

Make WAY more money than me.

Accomplished WAY more than me at their age.

Have personal assistants to do their hair & makeup everyday. Oh and also personal cooks and trainers to make sure they look stellar at all time. (This is where I tell myself that jealousy is a horrible, horrible thing...)

Damn.

Okay, but what REALLY irks me is when their songs come on the radio. No, not because I don't like to hear their songs, but because I DO like to hear their songs!!! I may not like their voices, but damn I love those catchy tunes! This happens to me with all three of the not-so-lovely ladies pictured above.

But mostly - it happens with Miley Cyrus. Which is even more annoying because she's what? Like 8 years old? Seriously, as annoying as Miley Cyrus or Hannah Montana or WHATEVER HER DAMN NAME IS is, you have to admit you've caught yourself "nodding your head like yeah." Or maybe even "moving your hips like yeah."

Don't deny it. We've all "Partied in the U.S.A.," if you will.

I have a confession. While writing this, this post has been somewhat of a therapy session for me, and I've come to grips with the fact that I need to overcome this and embrace my inner Hannah Montana. But I can't do it alone. I need others along with me. So let's just go with it.

So join with me right now...

I'm putting my hands up, cause they're playing my song.....and I'm nodding my head like, Yeah....

When PreSchool Mama's Attack

So I've been meaning to post this, but just haven't yet....probably due to the fact that I was dreading re-living this day. It's now two weeks later, and I've recovered. Enjoy.

February 1, 2010 

So, today I experienced what I believe to be the first of MANY weird sacrifices I will most likely make for my daughter. What did I sacrifice? Oh, ya know....only my life. Let me start at the beginning....

Bryant and I made the decision to enroll McKenna in pre-school come this fall. Yes - she'll only be a little over a year old, but we want to provide her with every opportunity to learn and grow to her full potential, as any parent would. Besides, she needs to get out of the house and hang out with kids other than Bryant. (Yes - that was a small pathetic attempt at a sarcastic jab in my husbands direction. Just go with it.) So we did a little (okay, okay - minimal) shopping around for day cares/pre-schools and settled on Hope Church's pre-school program. I liked this program mainly because it is an actual SCHOOL and not just day care. Plus, it's a part of a church, so the teachers there HAVE to be nice to my kid, right??

  

So like any school that starts in the fall, registration is in the spring. February 1st at 5:00pm, to be exact. I planned on showing up right around 5:00, maybe 4:50-4:55 if I was feeling a little over-zealous. No big deal, right? Wrong. At the "Open House" Bryant & I attened, they ever-so nonchalantly mentioned how there are only 14 spots available in MK's age group and how last year registration started at 8am and people started lining up at 3am to get in. SERIOUSLY? So in order for McKenna to "get in" I had to go wait in line FIVE hours prior to the start of registration??? I guess I didn't realize this wasn't like public schools where they'll take any hooligan who walked through the doors. Damn! And the 1st was a Monday, so that means Bryant & I would have to strategically plan out our day accordingly if we wanted McKenna to get in to this program. 

Turns out Bryant had stuff to do that day, and I had work. Ugh. Luckily, my boss is super cool and I can easily work from my laptop pretty much anywhere, so she gave me the go-ahead to sit in line with my computer. (Plus, she has a year and a half year old little boy whom she had on a preschool waiting list PRIOR to his birth. And PRIOR to knowing if he was a male or female. I love it! So she totally understands and gets where I'm coming from with this whole "every opportunity" parent thing.) So my mom came into town to help babysit McKenna that day while Bryant did his thing and I did my pre-school wait in line for hours thing. 

Here's the basic run down of the day: 

8:00am. I'm not taking any chances....drive to the church, back pack loaded down with my computer and some extra work to be done. Nobody's here and doors are locked. Damn. It would have been easier to set up shop right then, but with no power outlet, my computer is likely to go on strike. Ugh. Oh well. I'll go home and return in a couple hours. (There was NO WAY I was waiting in the 32 degree Memphis weather outside for 8-9 hours).

10:15am. I've eaten breakfast and gotten a jump start on some emails. Feeling good. Head back to the church with my computer. Nobody's in the parking lot and doors are still locked. Didn't they say to get here "early?" WTF? I thought so too....alright, maybe I'll come back again in a couple hours.

12:00pm. If I go over there and the doors are locked ONE MORE TIME after packing up all my work crap, I might freak my freak. Time to pick up the phone and call. Dialed. No answer. Alright - doors must be locked. I'll wait a little while longer. I have more emails to catch up on anyway... 

2:00pm. Ugh. I should probably check again to see if it's open yet. I only live one mile from the place, so I'll drive over and if it's open, I'll come back and get my computer. Hop in the car with no computer. 

2:02pm. F!! Pre-School Mama's (known as PSM's from here on out!) are lined up waiting in their cars!! Oh HELL NAH!! They are NOT going to beat me in line today! I've already been here multiple times, so technically, I was in line before them! I park my ass right in the middle of a line of cars. Time to sit and wait. 

2:15pm. Alright, I need to get some work done, but can't risk moving from this spot. Call the husby and ask him to bring me my computer. I start strategizing my sprint finish for when they unlock the doors. Good think I wore my running shoes.... 

2:17pm. Who does that PSM think she is getting OUT of her car and walking up to the door? You JUST drove up! There's NO WAY you're going to be allowed to cut in front of us who have been sitting in our cars and ever-so-politely-ignoring-each-other-while-working-on-our-plan-of-attack. 

2:20pm. Janitor sees PSM outside locked door and let's her in!!! OMG!! Time to get serious! Sorry husby - you're gonna have to find me inside. All of us PSM's jump out of the car simultaneously. I walk quickly/speed walk/borderline run to the now unlocked doors. Victory. I beat them all. (See? I KNEW all that half-marathon training would pay off! 

2:25pm. I park myself fourth back in line(Annoying, I know. But the PSM who walked up to the door first had her sister and a friend with her, so I felt bad ordering them to the back of the line. Hey - I'm a nice person, alright? BUT no worries. Their kids were all older than mine, so I was still FIRST in line for McKenna's age group. BOOYAH!) 

2:30pm. Bryant shows up with the computer and a yummy Lenny's sandwich. Jackpot. Now I can feed my face and get some more work done. 

3:00pm. Whoa now. The line has more than DOUBLED in size of what it was. PSM's keep showing up, gawking at the length of the line and trying to cut.(In their defense, the line ended up facing the direction of the door, so it looked like the front was actually the back.) But they were quickly shot down by the five of us who were in the very front. 

3:15pm. A rather upscale-looking PSM arrives and stands non-chalantly on the other wall opposite of me. Without making eye contact with anyone, she sets her massive Fendi handbag down on the floor and leans against the wall. Myself and the other PSM's look at each other with that evil gleam in our eyes. Oh yes. We understood alright. This PSM was planning on making a last second dash for the front without claiming her rightful spot at the BACK of the line. Myself and the pack of PSM's at the front would not allow this. We'd better go in for the kill early. We silently planned out our attack. The fearless leader of our line politely, yet forcefully informed the out-of-line PSM that the end of the line was "back that way" with an extended arm point. Long pause. Out-of-line PSM hesitates (to decide a plan of action, no doubt), then slowly leans down to grab her bag with a mumbled, "thanks." She unwillingly waltzed her way to the back of the line and took her spot. Whew. Crisis averted. Someone could have gotten hurt. Glad she didn't put up a fight or it could have gotten nasty. 

4:55pm. Fast forward to almost 2 hours and a plethora of PSM's later. The Pre-School adminstrator decides to show up. The line of PSM's get restless and antsy. 5:00pm. Administrator begins taking registration forms and our hard earned PSM non-refundable registration money. 

5:00:48pm. I walked up to the desk with a big smile and my forms. Administrator takes them and says, "Thank you. Have a good night." 

Wait.....That's IT? My entire life wasted away today in a church parking lot and hallway and that's all I get?? A measley SIX words?? I feel as though I should have at least gotten some sort of certificate for wasting my day like that. Or at the VERY LEAST a "HIP HIP HOORAY!" Hmpf! They are rather anti-climatic at Hope Church if you ask me. 

So moral of the story. I think I'd rather wait in line for Miley Cyrus tickets (Ugh! Gag me!). At least I'd have some immediate gratification. And Hope PreSchool had BETTER accept her for my day of lack of work done that day and the torment I endured sitting on that hard church floor with the other PSM's. 

Or else.... Tune in next month for the announcement of her acceptance or rejection.

Day Alone With Mom

So I'll go ahead and throw it out there. Bryant is the World's Best Dad. That's not an exaggeration. And I....well....I'll settle for the World's Most Mediocre Mom.

Don't get me wrong - I'm not a BAD mom by any means ("bad" is a relative term, right?), just not the greatest. I can effectively change a diaper, prepare a bottle, and play with a baby for the most part. But I can't even begin to try and claim the top spot. That would be what some might call a heaping plate of Shenanigans. I'll go ahead and throw something else out there. A small random fact to back up my claim. I am NOT a patient person. Bryant is. Which is why he's the perfect parental unit to be with McKenna most days while I work full time.

Well, the patient half of this parental team had to leave town today, so that left me at home alone with McKenna. No wait....let me rephrase that. That left McKenna home alone with me. AHHH!! (Side note: I have been alone with my daughter in the past, this is just the first time I documented it.) Well, I decided after her habitual condor crap (see my Can someone please quickly tell me how to raise a human being post for more explanation of this terrifying daily ritual) to go ahead and try to document the day in pictures.

It started out well, then slowly got worse. 

There was laughter and smiles.

There was fun and games.

There was baby food everywhere.

There were no naps.

And then there was screaming.

Yes - screaming.

Blood curling screams. Worse than in any screams you read about in R.L. Stein's infamous "Fear Street" books. (You remember those awesome pre-pubescent series of "horror" stories. It was that bad.)

I was finally able to calm her down about 7:30pm with a yummy bottle of Nestle's Good Start Formula (that's my plug for my sister's company, Nestle! McKenna and I both say thanks for the food Aunt Katie!) Anyway, below are some of the pictures I took throughout McKenna's day alone with mom!

Fun Times!

Happy with some food!

And then it starts....she decided the food would look better thrown around the house instead of in the bowl! AHH!! A neat freak's nightmare!

Lucy enjoyed the clean up process much more than I did....

Then she gave me attitude for whatever reason....

Once cleaned up, it started to get bad when trying to play again. Guess she was over the game of "Peek-a-Boo!" after the bazillionth time.

So I finally got baby to sleep for a couple hours, and BAM! 10:00pm hits! It's time to wake up and party again!

Unfortunately, this is where the pictures end. More screaming insued when I tried to get her back to sleep. Pacifers were thrown. It got bad there for a second. But luckily, (thank you again to my sister and Nestle Good Start Formula) there's currently a sweet sleeping baby laying next to me as I finish writing this. Oh what a day....

Perfection IS Possible

I KNEW it! I just KNEW that old saying, "Nobody's perfect" was a load of crock. We can ALL become perfect. And it will only cost us around $30,000.

Just ask Heidi Montag, because according to her, "Nobody ages perfectly, so (she) plan(s) to keep using surgery to make (her) as perfect as (she) can be." (Hollywoodgrind.com). As most of us probably know by now, due to the tabloid covers and Good Morning America interviews, Heidi is apparently "addicted" to reaching perfection (i.e. plastic surgery) and spent $30,000 to get there.

Don't get me wrong. I'm all about "enhancing" or doing whatever it is you feel the need to if it makes you feel better about yourself. Trust me. I'm all for it. BUT. There's come a point where enough is enough. Seriously. If you start out in life already gorgeous like Heidi did, there's nothing really that will do anymore good. Once you reach the peak, there's nowhere to go but down. And she's already started the downward slope. The same slope that Michael Jackson crashed down after his 50 gazillionth plastic surgery. I'm assuming she's working towards the surgical mask look that MJ rocked out for so long. Here are a couple before-and-after photos of Heidi:

Heidi before surgeries. So pretty.

Heidi after all her surgeries. Gross.

I hate to say it, but her surgery has aged her about 15 years, and she looks a 40 year old Hollywood actress. A younger version of Joan Rivers. (Not that being a 40 year old actress in Hollywood is necessarily a BAD thing.... but it is if you're only TWENTY THREE!) It makes me sad, because what some people (like myself), use as a nice little enhancement tool, others use to completely abuse the go-under-the-knife-freedom we have and make it seem like it's a horrible thing for people to do. Which it's not. For example, many women end up having breast augmentation after a horrible bought with breast cancer. That is a GREAT thing!! Or if you're like me - you use it make it look like you aren't a breast cancer survivor, when you never actually had breast cancer.

 Okay, okay...so maybe she wasn't happy with herself for whatever reason. Low self-esteem. That's fine - whatever. It happens. I just felt the need to point out some of the outrageous things she's said ABOUT her surgeries. Here are a few quotes from an interview with People magazine:

• “I look way better and I’m way happier, my eyebrow lift just took my face to another level, made it a little bit more European-exotic. And for the first time, I have sexy ears!” REALLY?? Sexy EARS?? I know that's something I've ALWAYS wanted my husband to whisper in my ear..."you have the sexiest ears..." (Uhhh...pause NOT!) And you're from California, not Europe. Get over it.
• “I’m competing against the Britney Spearses of the world....it was her sex appeal that sold. Obviously, looks matter, it’s a superficial industry.” No sh*t, Sherlock. But Britney hit her prime BEFORE she ever had any surgery done. DOH! Come on Heidi! You got famous BEFORE the surgeries also. And stop it with the superficial thing. We get it. You're superficial and living in a superficial world. We got it a long time ago when you told the E! Channel that you and Spencer were appalled by the fact that they quoted you two as having made ONLY 10 million dollars the prior year. I saw that interview and it made me throw up in my mouth a little bit.
• “I’m just starting. Let’s just say there’s a lot of maintenance." Yep - and that's what Michael Jackson thought too. Another round of surgeries and she'll look like the picture below.

Don't get me wrong! I'm not a Heidi Montag-Pratt-Whatever-Her-Name-Is hater! I don't dislike her by any means. I honestly just worry about her. I know I don't know her, but that doesn't mean I want her to go down the same superficial path that the King of Pop went down. But only time will tell. I wish both her & her husband luck. I wouldn't want to be married to a blonde Michael Jackson either.

Winter Storm Warning

So Memphis, along with the rest of the Mid-South region of our country, was put under a "Winter Storm Warning" late Thursday night through late Friday evening....and you know what that means....SNOW DAY!! Weren't those the greatest when you were a kid?? I remember I would go to bed at night and pray, asking God to let it snow so I could stay home and enjoy time with my family (A.K.A not go to school and turn in the homework I DIDN'T do!)

Well, snow days are a little different as an adult. The UCA office closed down for the day and made everyone go home early from work. I, unfortunately, still had work to be done, so I parked myself with my laptop at my kitchen table and went got to it. But this time, I had my pajama's on and watched the snow from my big picture window. Can I get a, "Hell yeah?" I was actually quite productive and got a ton of work done that I had been putting on the back burner. Can I get ANOTHER, "Heeellll yeah??" Anyway, after the ice and snow settled, I decided to document some of the storm's left overs. The ice and snow have made our backyard look pretty again! (The "again" statement was thrown in there to point out the fact that niether Bryant or I have "had the time" (i.e. we've been too lazy) to keep up with the yard this winter and it was turning into what some might call a cluster). But don't judge - I knew this storm would be coming and would take care of our "lack of time" to care for the yard.

McKenna Rayne loved sitting and looking out the window at the snow!

Ice is everywhere!!

McKenna ready for her SNOW DAY!!