Evan Appreciation Day

7 years ago today I became a mom for the first time. I won't bore you with the gorey details, unless you really want to read a birth story. Suffice to say that after 12 hours of induced labor Evan was born via c-section.

So now my 6 lb, 4 oz. baby boy is a big kid - an official 7-year-old. He's no longer the round faced baby, toddler and kindergartener he's been in the past. He's all that and more. His face is changing - becoming more angular like mine. He's always been lean, but now he's strong and muscular.

Today he said it was "Evan Appreciation Day" since he didn't have to wear a uniform to school (during Catholic Schools week one day is Student Appreciation Day and they can wear regular clothes to school). His class also put on a reader's theatre play, "Elephants In The Wild" and Evan played the part of "Robby". He was excellent, if I may say so.

Our celebration of his birth culminated with a visit to the new Jupiter's for pizza and games. My mom and step-dad joined us and a good time was had by all. Then we braved the snow for the jaunt home so Evan could open his gifts, among them being a Star Wars lego set he'd been saving his money for. It was the only thing he desperately wanted. And since there's no school on Friday (an actual snow day) he'll spend the day building that thing.

Happy 7th Birthday, Evan!

TMI

Just when I thought I'd heard everything my son tells me the following:

"Mom, my breath tastes like throw up."

Thanks for sharing.

Poop Schmoop or Happy Birthday, Mom!

I've been reading a lot of blogs lately that deal with potty training preschoolers and/or toddlers. While I must admit I didn't have a lot of problems training my kids to use the toilet there was a time when my son was 6 months old that I became obsessed with what came out of his bottom.

July 6, 2001 (my birthday): Evan hadn't pooped in about a week, which was odd, and I was starting to become concerned. Any poop today? Nope. Well, maybe later. Here, sweet, try some plums. Still not pooping? I hope there's nothing wrong. Is there something wrong? Is this normal? Here, baby, have some oatmeal.

Evan wasn't in pain and he was nursing and eating baby food like always, but nothing (other than pee) was coming out. That afternoon there was an ice cream social at my husband's office so I packed up the baby and headed out. 15 minutes later Evan was happily ensconced in the baby bjorn and I was happily attacking an ice cream sundae when I felt something liquid run down my leg. I thought, "Oh, great. The diaper's leaking." I reached down for the diaper bag when I noticed it wasn't pee on my shorts and legs, but poop. Frantic, I got my husband's attention and tried to make my way out of the now-crowded conference room. "Excuse me, pardon me, I need to get through, please" didn't work at all. However, screaming "Exploding diaper!" parted the crowd like Moses parted the red sea.

In the bathroom, I handed a giggling Evan over to his dad and laid out the changing pad on the floor (of course there's no diaper changing station at a video game studio). Frank pulled his t-shirt over his nose so he wouldn't gag (it didn't work). The diaper had indeed exploded and Evan was completely covered in a week's worth of baby poo. "Oh, my God! It's like liquid Satan!" exclaimed Frank between coughs as he undressed our son. "How could one little baby make so much shit that smells so evil?" I looked like I had been mud wrestling. I washed off as best I could in the bathroom's sink and we did the same with Evan, who thought that was great fun. I think we went through a metric ton of baby wipes. But at least he had an extra change of clothes. The baby bjorn got stuffed in a grocery sack I kept in the diaper bag for dirty clothes.

I sat on a garbage bag in the car on the way home. What a birthday.

The Count-Down Begins

The first thing I did this morning after 8:00 Mass was head for the parish hall. Normally, we go for the coffee and doughnuts but today I signed my daughter up for kindergarten. This was the first opportunity to apply for admission and I knew to be there early. I knew this day was coming - I've been ready for it (got copies of her baptismal and birth certificates), anticipating its arrival.

Still, it knocked me for a loop.

When we did this the first time two years ago, I was excited and eager for my son to head off to grade school. He was ready and champing at the bit. This time around, I felt just as excited for Flynn but I also felt a bit of sadness. My little girl, my baby is growing up and away. Maybe I'm just amazed that this day arrived so quickly. She's not even 5 yet and it's January and I'm not ready to think about the next school year yet.

My friend, Mrs. Chicken, wrote about savoring a bit of inertia, about wanting to grab hold of moments in her daughter's life and keep them forever. I know that feeling oh, so well with both of my children. There are moments every day with my two lovelies that I want burned forever into my consciousness. It's those moments that one or both of my kids takes my breath away with their simple beauty or they afford me glimpses into their future - a brief look at the young adults they are growing into.

As I handed in our application to the school's principal she asked, "This is for the youngest isn't it?" I said, "Yep." "So, what are you going to do now?" she asked.

All I could do was shrug my shoulders, shake my head, walk back to my family who were struggling into their jackets, and head out the door to our day.

Care to give to CARE?

Leeanthro, over at Soy Is The New Black, wrote about one of her favorite ways to exercise her mind was playing "free rice".

While perusing the latest issue of Marie Claire magazine (you know me and my 'zines), I came across a way to give to charity while exercising your body. Starting now, for every hour you work out author, businessman, and triathlete Eric Harr will donate $5 to CARE. Report your workout hours at www.care.org/feedback/workout.asp (it's the honor system - you wouldn't lie to a charity, would you?), and money goes to CARE's global projects to help eradicate poverty.

Don't "work out"? Don't sweat it. I figure if you're wrangling kids, running a household, walking to and from a car, doing housework, whatever - you're working out. Just guesstimate.

So, be all holistic and stuff and give your time to 2 charities while enhancing your mind and your body.

What Every Woman Longs To Hear

I have no clue why I thought trying on swimsuits would be a good idea today (or any day). I guess it was because I don't have a suit that fits and I may someday soon take the kids to the indoor aquatic center in Urbana and suits are on sale at Target this week.

Just call me a glutton for punishment. Nothing fit or looked right.

But before I had even tried anything on, Flynn put her hand on my arm and said in all seriousness, "Mommy, I will not laugh at you when you are naked."

Thanks.

Lovely

Today being a holiday there was no school, which meant it was time to get the hell out of the house and stay out. Since it's bloody cold out the kinderbots and I headed to C-U's best kept secret: an amazing indoor playground run by a local church that is open and free to the public.

The kids ran and played with some friends from pre-school and I had an opportunity to (*gasp*) sit down and have adult conversations with some of my friends, most of which I've only seen in passing at school and haven't actually spoken with in months. Amazing, I know!

We were there for 4 hours. I kid you not.

What an absolutely lovely way to pass the late morning/early afternoon (and not have to pick up after anybody or break up a fight over a toy).

Sigh.

Ear Worm Take 2

My musical tastes tend to be fairly firmly planted in the alternative, although I like a bit of everything. The ushering in of the new year usually sees me buying a bunch of music and the inauguration of 2008 was no different.

The past couple of weeks saw me purchasing Cd's by The Ramones and Blondie (I can't believe I didn't have any in my catalog before now), The Magic Numbers, Spoon, The "Shrek The Third" soundtrack (which has tracks from Eels and a wicked version of Fergie sounding very Ann Wilson-like on Heart's "Barracuda"), The Thrills, The Kooks, Daft Punk, Bloc Party, Flaming Lips, KT Tunstall, and Kaiser Chiefs. I also received a couple of mix discs for Christmas, which I love. Good, better, best! I'm like a kid in a candy store - I don't know what to listen to next.

Yet none of this great, awesome, thrilling music is stuck in my head. No, my brain is currently playing a remix of Alice Cooper's "School's Out" and The Beastie Boys' "Sabotage".

I have no one to blame but myself.

It all started while I was at Wal-Mart and saw a display for $5 Cd's. I picked up an "Alice Cooper's Greatest Hits" compilation and thought, "'School's Out' and 'No More Mr. Nice Guy' aren't too bad and he seems like a pretty cool person, at least he was on 'The Muppet Show'." So I bought it. And for some bizarre reason I bought a lyrically sanitized Beastie Boys compilation on half.com. When I first heard the Beastie Boys 20 years ago, I thought they were crap. And when a dear friend of mine put one of their songs on a mix tape, I wondered what drugs he was on. Now, I own AND LIKE a Beastie Boys CD. My son and I drive around in my beige mini-van bobbing our heads in time with "Intergalactic", "Money Maker" and the previously mentioned "Sabotage." What's more frightening is that I think I know all the lyrics.

That's all well and good but I wish these songs would get the hell out of my brain. I pray to God this ear worm isn't here as long as my beloved Guadalcanal Diary's "Always Saturday" (13 years!).

Yum!

This is the reason I braved Sam's Club today (we desperately needed fruit and milk and a bunch of other stuff that I didn't know we "needed" until I got there).

I've been on a citrus kick as of late and this is my favorite snack.

I section a navel orange and a pink grapefruit into a bowl, making sure to squeeze out any juice left in the remainder. Then I drizzle a little organic honey on top. Delish! It's quick, simple and (at the risk of sounding like Mr. Food) is oh, so good. And the kids love it too. Well, Flynn won't eat grapefruit but she adores honey.

It's like a little taste of summer despite the fact that it's 10 degrees outside and well worth the trek to Sam's.

Now That's Ambition

After running errands this afternoon, Evan says to me, "Mom? Would you help me build a time portal? I want to go back in time and visit the dinosaurs. I don't want to bring any back, because that would be bad. I just want to see them for real."

"Wow. A time portal? I don't think I know how to build that."

"I know how. When the vacuum cleaner breaks we can use the spare parts for it."

"What do you mean, when the vacuum cleaner breaks?"


When I related this story to my husband he said, "It's funny that the only thing keeping us from going back in time is a functional vacuum cleaner."

My Poor Little Sickie

"Mommy? I don't feel very well."

"Oh? What doesn't feel right?"

"My froat is scratchy and my bones don't want to move so I have to walk like a robot."

"Hmmm," I replied, "let's stay home today and rest. You could use it."

"OK. Can we read this book? Then can we play Dora dominoes? Then can I watch a movie?"

"Sure."

She's been complaining of a sore throat for a couple of days and last night she toughed out karate graduation but looked kind of out of it.

Flynn's temp is just this shy of feverish and she's exhausted, plus she does have a bit of a cough. I kept her home from school today and after reading "How Do Dinosaurs Get Well Soon?" (twice) and a rousing game of Dora dominoes, she's presently ensconced on the couch, curled up with a blanket, watching a DVD of "Pee Wee's Playhouse."

Fortunately, she still has an appetite. She's been drinking cups of cocoa and eating bowls of creamy cinnamon oatmeal (that alternates with warm lemonade w/honey and sun chips).

My wish is that she'd take a nap, but fat chance of that happening. Once she's awake, she's in for the long haul until bedtime (in this respect she's just like me).

Feel better, little one.

Our New Family "Member"

This is a picture my daughter drew yesterday of our family.

"Mommy! Here's Evan and me and you and Daddy!" she proudly exclaimed. Then she leaned in and added conspiratorially, "and here's Daddy's penis."

The Water Horse

Yesterday afternoon I took the kids to the movies. We saw "The Water Horse", which they've been begging to see for a couple of months.

What a fun family film loosely based on the novel by Dick King-Smith, the author of Babe and many other great novels!

The story takes place in Scotland (Loch Ness area) during WWII. The main character is Angus McMorrow, a lad who's mum (played by the impeccable Emily Watson) is the head housekeeper of an estate. The lord & lady of the estate are nowhere to be found (I think because Lord Such-n-such is in the British army) so Mrs. McMorrow lives there with Angus, his older sister Kirstie, the cook and the gardener. Mr. McMorrow, who had previously been the estate's handyman, had enlisted in the navy and was killed when his ship was sunk - something young Angus has trouble accepting. Angus is also deathly afraid of water. While collecting seashells from a tide pool, Angus finds a mysterious egg-shaped shell which he takes home and hides in his father's workshop. One dark and stormy night the egg hatches and Angus finds the creature to be a ravenous, incredibly cute creature that looks like a cross between a plieosaur and a sea horse. Angus names him, "Crusoe." Crusoe grows at an alarming rate and eventually has to be taken to the loch to live.

The story is predictable but it's so charming, heart-touching and lovely. There is action, humor, a few explosions, and a bit of nostalgia. It's the ultimate "boy and his dog" movie only the dog is played by the Loch Ness monster. The ultimate theme of the film is "learning to let go." Angus literally has to let Caruso go and emotionally he has to let go of the idea that his father's returning home one day.

The cast was amazing, especially the young lad who plays Angus. The special effects are great, as you would expect from the folks who made "The Chronicles of Narnia".

Both my kids adored this film and asked to buy it on DVD. This film effected Evan like no other, at one point he was crying, even though he knew everything would work out right. He just got caught up in the moment and felt so strongly about Angus and Caruso's relationship, which I think is a testament to the film.

It's very difficult to find family films that don't pander to the lowest common denominator. "The Water Horse" is intelligent, doesn't explain everything (leaving the audience to make their own conclusions which I think is great), and is a jewel.

If your kids enjoy fantasy, they'll like this film. I would not recommend it for young children as there are some intense moments, but my 4 & 6 year olds loved it and I did too.

Pine Trees Suck And So Does My Vacuum Cleaner. Oh, Wait, My Vacuum Cleaner Does NOT Suck.

The last of Christmas left our house through the front door today and I say good riddance.

Our tree this year, while tall and beautiful, had very sharp and, as my kids put it, pokey needles. Decorating it was an exercise in pain. Even more so when we took the ornaments off yesterday afternoon. "Ow!" was heard repeatedly.

And that tree shed needles like it was going out of style. Fucking Christmas tree.

So what's a poor girl to do when the tree is gone and there's about 6 trillion reminders of it on the carpet? Why, she gets out her trusty vacuum cleaner of course. I whip out our Dyson and start cleaning up the needles when the vacuum starts making a bad noise. So I turn it off and check it out. Sure enough the little hose that connects the parts of the cleaner together is stuffed with pine needles and carpet fuzz. I spent 15 minutes cleaning that thing out only to have to do it again 5 minutes later. And another 20 minutes after that. Fucking vacuum cleaner.

Right now I think I could punch that smug British guy in the Dyson commercials right in the nose. And I think I'm going to set fire to the pieces of dry, old Christmas tree currently residing in the garage.

1st Grade Wierdness

I have the most interesting conversations with my son in the car. This is pretty much word for word of one we had the other day.

"Mom? There are some girls at school who are mean to me. One girl always picks me last and the others just pick on me." He mimics some girls in a high pitched voice, "Evan, blah, blah, blah."
Then he continues, "Why do they do that? Why do they have to be so mean?"

"Well, my son, I hate to tell you this but the fact that they are 'picking' on you most likely means they like you."

"What. Are you. Telling me?" he deadpans. I think I just blew his mind.

"I know, it sounds strange but it's true. Sometimes boys do the same thing - pick on a girl they like."

"I do not do that! I am always nice at school."

I know the girls he was talking about, so I think my remark about them liking him rings true. None of the 4 are mean girls. Besides, what's not to like? My son is cute as a button, intelligent, courteous, and as Willy Loman says, he's well liked; he's personally attractive (I'm not biased or anything).

But I don't like the fact that he's feeling persecuted. I told him that if their behavior continues he should tell his teacher.

Juke Box Hero

Today on the way home from school, Evan was rocking out in the car to Queen's "We Will Rock You" and made the following statement, "I want to learn how to play the guitar!"

I was thinking he wanted to take lessons with his friend and thought, "This could be fun."

Then Evan amended his previous comment with, "I want to take rock star lessons!"

My next thought was, "Dear God."

Using My Noodle

I occasionally peruse Hungry Girl's website and found these little beauties - House Foods Tofu Shirataki noodles. I know, I know, tofu noodles don't sound very appetizing. But I thought I'd give them a whirl since they contain 20 calories, 0.5 grams of fat and 2 grams of fiber per serving.

Finding these "exotic" confections was easier than I thought, which I discovered after scouring a local Asian food store. Our local Meijer store carries them in 2 widths, spaghetti and fettuccine. I bought a couple bags of the spaghetti figuring I could maybe coerce Flynn into eating them.


So tonight I fixed the tofu noodles for dinner. I used them in a teryaki shrip stir-fry with broccoli, bamboo shoots and water chestnuts and a little garlic. The noodles are insanely easy to fix: drain, rinse, pat dry and microwave for 1 minute. Ta da! That's it. I pan fried them a little in a small bit of veggie oil and drizzled them with dark sesame oil before mixing them in with the shrimp and veg. These "noodles" are more slippery than regular pasta, but Flynn gobbled up her plain noodles and said they were good. Evan proclaimed dinner to be "Awesome!"

Score 1 for House Foods tofu noodles! I will be using these in the future and am anxious to try other recipes.

An Exercise In Restraint

When I picked my daughter up from preschool today she said she wanted quesadillas for lunch, "from that resternaunt [her pronunciation] we went to that one time." She meant a local Mexican place that serves awesome food. I was only too happy to oblige since a) she suggested it and would eat and b) we had errands to run before coming home.

The service is fast and friendly and the food is bang-the-table-with-your-fist good though it's terribly unhealthy (I'm sure the refried beans are made with lard) and I'm very glad the menu does not list each item's nutritional content. Ignorance is complete bliss.

We ordered our lunch - the "Speedy Gonzales" for me (the meal consists of a taco, an enchilada and rice or beans) and the aforementioned quesadillas for Flynn. While we waited for our lunch to arrive we munched on the complimentary chips and salsa. The salsa is so good, I could drink it from a cup (then I guess it would be gazpacho but whatever). Flynn, of course, won't touch salsa with a ten-foot pole, so the bowl was all mine. Oh, yeah (cue Yellow's song - you know, the one from "Ferris Bueller"). Flynn ate both of her quesadillas and downed her glass of milk like they were going out of style.

I'm kinda proud that I did not eat the entire basket of chips or bowl of salsa.

And I did not lick my plate clean.

Meet Patty

Flynn has a new friend. Her name is Patty. She is a piece of cardboard.

Yesterday afternoon Flynn was puttering around the basement with her dad and brother while I indulged in an episode of "2 Dudes Catering." She came running up the stairs as fast as her little legs could carry her bringing with her a piece of cardboard. "Can you watch Patty for me, Mommy? I have to go shopping."

"Uh, sure. Who's Patty?"

"THIS is Patty!" she exclaimed and looked at me like she was saying, "Duh."

"Oh. OK. Have fun shopping."

"Thanks, Mom-mom."

I have no clue where the conception for Patty came from. Just like I don't know where "Joan" the dollar store barbie got her name. These quirky and fun ideas just pop up out of nowhere. And I love them.

I take great delight in my children's imaginations. They are vivid and wild - able to endow a simple piece of brown cardboard with thoughts and feelings. My beautiful little girl has a powerful ability to make believe.

Just ask Patty.

Flynn with Patty

I'm Rolling My Eyes Right Now

Flynn is driving me crazy.

My 4-year-old daughter is what one might call a finicky eater. White foods (potatoes as long as they're mashed, plain spaghetti or any other kind of noodles, bread, bananas, mozzarella cheese, vanilla yogurt, cream cheese) are all good. As are apples and pears if they haven't oxidized. Pretty much all fruit are acceptable. Broccoli is one of her favorite foods but not to be outdone is her love of butter. She will frequently ask, "Mommy? Can I have butter on a spoon?" The only meat that will pass her lips is ham. And Tirolier (a German bologna), what she calls "omaloney", a conglomeration of "Oma"(what she calls my Austrian mother-in-law) and "baloney". She will not eat pizza. Chicken will be consumed in nugget form only. Ixnay on the beloved mac and cheese. I know? Who can say "no" to mac and cheese? Certainly not me. But she does love chives. She will graze on chives by the fistful in my MIL's garden and then give me big stinky onion-breath kisses.

Her picky-ness confounds me. I am not a picky eater. Nor, is my husband or my son. Yes, there are foods we are not fond of but it's a pretty short list.

Tonight was the mother of all fights to get her to eat. I made corned beef, potatoes and brussles spouts. Admittedly, I knew she wouldn't eat 2 of the 3 items on the plate so I supplemented with a slice of bread (whole wheat which my kids prefer to white) and butter. She made a big deal of what was on her plate, "I didn't want this for dinner! I'm not eating this! This is yuk!" As you can imagine, her dad and I were not amused. She forced herself to swallow a few forkfuls of potato (which was mashed up with a fork and had butter on it) and eat her half-slice of bread before she proclaimed, "I'm all done. May I be excused from the table?" She was told to sit down and eat her dinner.

30 minutes and much wailing and gnashing of teeth later, she still hadn't finished. I told her she had to eat 3 more bites or no books before bed (that consequence ALWAYS works at my house). Lots of drama and tears ensued but she ate the 3 bites. Then she ate a slice of deli ham and a cheese stick and drank all her milk.

Most of the time I'm not really worried about her diet. But today I didn't want her to eat just a bit of potato and a slice of bread. That's not a meal. It's not healthy. I also don't want to badger her about it since she is 4 and I don't want her to have any food hang-ups like I did. When I talk to her about food it's in the context of making healthy choices. There aren't any forbidden foods, just ones that aren't the best for our bodies.

So, do I just let it go and figure that her body will sort itself out? That she'll get the nutrition she needs over the course of the week?

This picky eating thing is maddening and worrying all at the same time. Ugh.

Baby Fever

No.

God, no.

Not me.

My kids. More specifically, my 6-year-old son.

I attended a baby shower this afternoon and he was disappointed he didn't get to accompany me. He honestly likes baby showers and he adores babies.

A while back he asked if we were going to have any more kids in our family. I said, "Daddy and I are happy with the way things are." A nice way of saying, "no way", I thought. Frank and I have had the "do we want another baby" discussion and came to the conclusion that 2 is enough.

"I want a big brother and a little brother who will play with me and Flynn's only the little sister. She needs to be a big sister," said Evan, working every angle he could.

"You are the big brother."

"I know, but I want to be a bigger brother."

This all started over the summer and has continued pretty much non-stop.

You see, Evan's friends are getting more siblings (one friend became a big sister for the 3rd time in Sept., and one of his best friends has 2 little brothers and will have a baby sister this spring) and family friends are having babies left and right. Apparently, we need to share the love and make our family bigger and since Evan is knowledgeable about adoption, he's keen to take in every child in the world that needs a home. He actually wanted me to search for adoption sites online so he could locate his big brother. I find this behavior rather endearing and admirable, however, we're not about to adopt a child just because Evan wants one.

Evan also says that he wants to be a dad to 100 kids. I told him maybe he should be a teacher when he grows up (he looked at me like I was crazy since it's a well known fact that he's going to be an astronaut and then a zoo keeper).

And I'll tell you as I saw those little tiny clothes and baby things being passed around today, my arms did, fleetingly, ache for a baby. A little.

Then I remembered all the work that goes with the sweet and, frankly, I don't want to do that again.

Now, if I can just convince my son...

How Can Chocolate Taste This Bad?

After picking up my daughter at her Friday a.m. Park District program, we headed over to a local international grocery store for a couple of things. While we were shopping she picked up a small candy bar and asked if she could buy it. I said ok mainly because I was hungry and figured she'd share a bite with her ol' mom.

As we're walking to the car she asked if she could have her candy now, please. I mentioned before that I was hungry, right? So, of course, I said yes. She whipped the wrapper off so fast exclaiming, "Ooooh, I get chocolate!"

"Can I have a bite?", I ask.

"Sure, Mommy."

"Thanks, sweetie."

I take the bar and bite off a small bit. I wish I'd had something to spit it into because it was foul, foul, foul. Gritty. Not pleasant at all.

Flynn thought it was good.

My daughter and I have very similar tastes when it comes to candy. We both love chocolate. Where my 4-year-old and I differ is that I tend to be a bit more discerning. Not just any chocolate will do.

I make allowances in my daily diet for chocolate and I want that piece to be extra special good. Why would I want to consume some crap piece of chockie just to satisfy a craving for sweets? No. I realized last year as I began my "getting back to normal" regimen, that if I want something sweet, it has to be worth it. I also realized that I'd developed a craving for dark chocolate, something I'd never really wanted before.

Chocolate has to be good and not all of it is. My husband prefers Hershey's. I'd rather have Cadbury's or Milka for milk chocolate (they're both creamier than Hershey's) and I love Newman's Own dark chocolate. It has excellent mouth feel and a taste that's not too bitter. Dagobah organic dark chocolate is good, too. Dark chocolate is "healthier" for me because it has flavanoids or whatnot in it, but that's not why I like it. Dark chocolate's flavor lingers in my mouth much longer than milk chocolate and doesn't make me want to eat more. One small piece satisfies my sweet tooth the way an entire bar of milk chocolate can't.

So once Flynn and I got home I washed my mouth out with a piece of Ritter Sport dark chocolate. Mmmm.....

Pain Is Not My Friend

I don't know what I did, but I've fracked up my leg but good.

It all started on Christmas Eve day when I woke up with a sore Achilles tendon and achy hamstring. I worked out anyway but didn't run. I did the stair-master thingy that looks like a flight of stairs to nowhere. 25 minutes of that and I was knackered - more so than running 4 miles. Later that day my hamstring/upper quad/glute on my left leg was still sore. A week later, the dull ache was still there. I've occasionally gotten these little aches, but I work right through them and they go away. Until now.

Yesterday I did something stupid - I ran on my sore leg. I made it 2.5 miles and had to stop, it hurt so much. I walked another mile or so and then stretched. The pain was enough to make me feel nauseous. Tylenol took the edge off, but not by much. A soak in a hot bath and more stretching (mostly a yoga pigeon pose) helped a little last night and this a.m. my leg just felt tight, like I haven't stretched in a while.

Now when I extend my left leg any more than about 30 degrees, I feel that strong pull in my hamstring. If you've ever had a muscle cramp, you'll know what I'm talking about. But my muscles aren't cramping.

Maybe I've pulled something? I dunno.

Any ideas/suggestions?

Happy New Year?

This a.m. I was folding laundry while the kids watched the Rose Parade preview. A commercial for a meal replacement diet came on. My son said, "You need that."

"Who me?" I replied.

"Yes."

"What? You think I'm fat?"

"Yes. A little. Like this much." He held his thumb and index finger about half an inch apart.

"Hmmm." I said as I finished folding a t-shirt. Then I got ready to go to the gym.

I am NOT fat. Flabby? A bit. But I did loose 30 pounds last year so there's some excess skin (not to mention the stretch marks, which I earned, during both pregnancies).

I also am pretty darn proud of the fact that I maintained my weight over the holidays.

(deep breath) I'm going to cut my boy some slack since he is 6 and he was being honest.

But, sheesh, what a way to start the new year.