How My Family Tried to Kill Me

My kids have tried a lot—torture by sleep deprivation, whining, and not letting me speak a complete sentence without saying, “you’re interrupting me” are some of their big ones.  But last week was some of their finer work—booby trapping the garage.

We have a very nice treadmill.  I bought it for my husband a couple Christmases ago and he uses it quite a lot.  Since I’m training for my first 1/2 marathon, I’ve found myself needing to use it too.  (Between you and me, I really despise treadmills--too boring.)  Anyway, we have a garage that is not actually used for our cars.  It stores all our crap along with stuff that’s not crap, like Kayaks and LOTS of bikes.  The treadmill is pointed towards the TV and at least you can run and try to be distracted from looking around at the messy garage.  Someday I have plans to renovate it and create a real gym.  But the contractors don’t take third party post-dated checks—so we’ll have to wait on that little dream of mine.  (But honestly, how awesome would it be to have a place I can send my kids when they’re annoying the $#%@ out of me?  The garage is DETACHED.  I might not even hear them!)

My sons LOVE riding their bikes and I love it that they love it.  However, it’s always a huge fight on getting them to actually put their bikes away in the garage.  When they put them “away” they just sort of push them in the door and shut it really quickly hoping for the best.  They’re young and I will cut them a little slack about this because I’m mainly happy that they’re locked up at night.  But there should be one distinct place that they can put their bikes, that is out of the way of people trying to walk, and is easy enough for them to do it.

But it doesn’t.  It looks like this:

You can’t see it, but the treadmill is behind all of those bikes.

This past Friday I had a 25 minute window of time that I could run.  My training program wanted me to do 2 miles on Friday and 10 on Saturday.  I figured there must be a reason for such a short run before the long one and wanted to get it in.  With 25 minutes I could get the run in and still have a couple minutes of time to run over and pick up my daughter from preschool. 

I did my run, all the while watching the clock, until I was close enough to 2 miles and needed to pick her up.  I ran quicker than normal since it was short and I wanted to get through the distance faster.  I hopped off the ‘mill and started running for the door. 

My foot caught on one of the bikes and since I was moving so quickly, I couldn’t catch myself.  I reached out but all I could grab were more bikes.  I fell, hard, on my left side hitting my hip hardest, my elbow, and finally the side of my head on the TV cabinet.  I didn’t know it, but my husband had strapped down the old TV.  Had he not done this, it could have been very bad.  I would have been stuck under that thing, dead, with just my feet sticking out like the wicked witch on Wizard of Oz.

I was in a good deal of pain but had to get up and get collected as soon as possible so I wouldn’t be late to get my daughter.  I did reach around my head to make sure I wasn’t bleeding.  I thought a bloody head would make things awkward for her.  “Hi Sweetie, Mommy’s here” drip drip drip.  When I saw that there was no blood I was relieved and assumed it was one of those things I would scream at my entire family about later.  But the next day I had a bad headache when I woke up and was reminded of this horrible story of Natasha Richardson.

So on Saturday I spent a few hours in an Urgent Care facility to get checked out.  I was xrayed from head to toe and told that the headache was likely due from my severe neck spasms.  Doc said my neck resembled someone who had suffered from whiplash (seriously, I was really rushing through this garage).  I was given a script for muscle relaxers and told to have my family watch me and bring me straight to the ER if I acted strangely.  (Yeah, yeah, I know.  Insert joke there.)

I’m still pretty banged up and fighting the back/neck spasms.  But I feel invincible.  Once again, I have been victorious. My family is going to have to work harder if they want to off me. 

Look closely at this photo.  This is right by the bikes (as you can see from the tires).  Under the extension cord (a trip aid) is a drill, sticking straight up with a big fat ugly drill bit still intact.

 

Look at this TV cabinet.  To the left is a board, protruding from the TV.

Look at the concrete floor in front of the TV cabinet.  A 5lb dumbbell.  I’ve been told it’s there to help keep the door open on windy days.  I don’t know, seems a little too convenient.

Think I’m overreacting? You tell me I’m crazy but I’ll be wearing a helmet next time I go in that garage.  They’re good, but I’m ready for them.

Painted Furniture

I love painting furniture.  I particularly like taking things from the trash and putting new life into it.  Sometimes a little wood putty and a coat of paint can really make a difference.

I have some wood chairs that I wanted to bring into my kitchen.  My kitchen/dining furniture is done in a distressed/antique style. I like the way it looks and it’s also effective since my kids are pretty rough on furniture.  The additional scrapes and nicks won’t even be noticed.

Here’s the chair (solid wood).  All I did was wash it—no primer, no sanding.

I put several coats of white semi gloss on this chair.  It’s quite dark wood and hard to coat.  I used semi gloss because I had it around and was planning on scuffing it up and adding antique finish to it.  Normally when I do furniture I don’t use a paint with any shine to it.  After painting, I sanded it down on all the spots that would normally get worn.  I used a regular sander and just blasted over all the edges to highlight them.

To antique the piece you can use stain (which works well but is very smelly and takes longer to dry).  I found this antique polish in Michaels by FolkArt.  Works great.  I apply it with a handiwipe towel.  Use a glove on your hand, it’s pretty tough to come off.  Just put dabs on the towel and start wiping it on the furniture.  Work quickly because it dries lightening fast.  The antique polish comes in many colors.  I had dark brown on hand (I tend to work with whatever I have laying around—and there’s usually tons laying around).

Finished chair.

I recently needed a bookcase in my kitchen for cookbooks.  I had one in the shed.  It was green and just kind of boring.  I found these little wood details (guess where?) and glued them on.  Then painted the bookcase a beige brown (a paint store “woops” color.  An entire quart of Benjamin Moore paint for 1.50!  Excellent deal—I always check the woops paints.)

 

Right now the books are not stacked the way they normally would be and I have fabric placemats on each shelf.  Paint takes a solid 2 weeks to cure.  If you’re not careful, the paint will peel off, stick to whatever you put on it, be a general mess.  So use fabric barriers until at least 2 weeks have gone by and you’ll be in good shape.

Painted Furniture

I love painting furniture.  I particularly like taking things from the trash and putting new life into it.  Sometimes, a little wood putty and a coat of paint can really make a difference.

I have some wood chairs that I wanted to bring into my kitchen.  My kitchen/dining furniture is done in a distressed/antique style. I like the way it looks and it’s also effective since my kids are pretty rough on furniture.  The additional scrapes and nicks won’t even be noticed.

Here’s the chair (solid wood).  All I did was wash it—no primer, no sanding.

I put several coats of white semi gloss on this chair.  It’s quite dark wood and hard to coat.  I used semi gloss because I had it around and was planning on scuffing it up and adding antique finish to it.  Normally when I do furniture I don’t use a paint with any shine to it.  After painting, I sanded it down on all the spots that would normally get worn.  I used a regular sander and just blasted over all the edges to highlight them.

To antique the piece you can use stain (which works well but is very smelly and takes longer to dry).  I found this antique polish in Michaels by FolkArt.  Works great.  I apply it with a handiwipe towel.  Use a glove on your hand, it’s pretty tough to come off.  Just put dabs on the towel and start wiping it on the furniture.  Work quickly because it dries lightening fast.  The antique polish comes in many colors.  I had dark brown on hand.

Finished chair.

I recently needed a bookcase in my kitchen for cookbooks.  I had one in the shed.  It was green and just kind of boring.  I found these little wood details (guess where?) and glued them on.  Then painted the bookcase a beige brown (a paint store “woops” color that I got DIRT cheap). 

 

Right now the books are not stacked the way they normally would be and I have fabric placemats on each shelf.  Paint takes a solid 2 weeks to cure.  If you’re not careful, the paint will peel off, stick to whatever you put on it, be a general mess.  So use fabric barriers until at least 2 weeks have gone by and you’ll be in good shape.

Just Do It (Unless You’re Slow)

Nike has had some great campaigns.  One of my favorites is “If You Let Me Play Sports.”  Recently, I found this ad (Nike+ Men vs. Women TV Ad Featuring Paula Radcliffe & Fernando Torres)  that makes me giggle—at heart I’m still the only sister with three brothers to beat I guess.  To be honest, I don’t wear Nike shoes because they never fit me right.  I do love the Nike+ system though and have been enjoying the special area of their website and joining different challenge groups (like the one featured in the ad above).  What I love about Nike is how they are constantly pushing us to get out there and run.

I recently saw a NYT article called, Plodders Have a Place, but Is It in a Marathon?  This article is the anti-Nike campaign.  In it, there is a lot of whining about how the “fast” runners don’t feel it’s fair to have slow runners in the same race.  Or, certainly shouldn’t be allowed to wear a shirt that says they completed a marathon or have the same medal.  Because if it took you 6 hours to complete it, well, you weren’t really running it now were you?  So, it shouldn’t “count.”  It’s taking the shine off the people that ran it really fast.  So I guess what the writer and those they interview are saying is that they don’t want slow people allowed in the race.  What about the wheelchair division?  They’re not running it either. 

Is that what men were thinking before women were even allowed to race at all?  Were they afraid that if women could compete, could finish, could kick freakin’ ass, then the men wouldn’t be able to strut quite so much?  In 1966 Roberta Gibb was denied entry to the Boston Marathon.  So she hid in the bushes and jumped into the race finishing 3:21:40, and is the unofficial women's winner.  Boston did not officially allow women until 1971.  That’s the same year that NYC allowed women but insisted that there be separate start times with women starting 10 minutes before the men.  In protest, the women SIT DOWN for the first 10 minutes of the race.  Nina Kuscsik wins, but her official time reflects a ten-minute penalty.

I have done a lot of foot races in NYC and enjoyed almost all of them.  One memorable race was a 10K that I did called the Mini Marathon.  I had really hurt my knee and was miserable for pretty much all of it; walking almost constantly.  At one point I saw a woman about my age (30ish) yelling and jumping up and down at the woman about to pass me.  She yelled, “That’s my MOM!!!”  I smiled as the girls mother told her to shush.. she was making a scene.. but the girl kept yelling, “But you’ve never done this before! I’m so proud of you!  Look everyone, that’s my Mom!”  My time?  It was so slow I don’t remember it—my brain has spared my pathetic ego.

For me the races were always for fun or for raising money for breast cancer.  Me and my friends would get together at the start and talk and then run together talking and laughing; never once looking at our watches.  Sheri and I never got to see each other because we live so far apart, but we could always count on each other every September to meet in the city and run for the Komen foundation.

I ran a good deal in high school.  I was a sprinter.  100 meters?  I’m your gal.  200 meters? Sure, why not.  400 meters? Coach, that’s kinda far.  I was much too lazy to be a distance runner.  The cross country coach once stopped me in the hall and said, “C’mon Claudine, you can be the first one to sign up on the roster.  I’ve even got the pencil for you..” and I smiled but politely refused.  But now I’m 42 years old with 3 children, a part time job, too many hobbies, and a house (don’t get me started on my husband) to take care of—I’m  pretty busy.  But a friend, oh let’s just say it, Pernille, coaxed me to do the Disney Half-Marathon in January.  It must have been during one of her dinner parties where every time you turn around another drink is getting shoved in your face—because here I find myself with an official entry form into the Disney Half.

The last time I ran in NYC was a very hot August day and I was miserable.  I realized later that I was newly pregnant with my middle son Max.  Two years later, I was pregnant again with my third, Annabelle.  It’s been 7 years since I’ve run farther than from my car to the kitchen door on a rainy day.  I bought some sneakers this summer, the Nike+, IPod, and started running my fairly hilly neighborhood.  My initial pace was in the 14 min/mile range.  My pace and stamina has dramatically improved with constant, steady running (and cooler temps definitely helps).  But this article in the Times really made me angry.  Like my mother in law said,  it took the wind out of my sails.  No, I do not run a 7 minute mile.  I could probably do an 8 minute mile—but there would be just the one and then I’d need a stretcher.  I did a couple of 9 minute miles when the skies opened up on me recently and I was desperate to save my phone and iPod.  But my comfy place is in the 11 to 12 range.  At that pace I can look around at my neighbors gardens. I can tell the driver who has pulled up beside me how to get to the beach.  I can answer the walker asking where I got the cool pink headphones.  I can notice the awesome easel someone has put on the curb that my kids will love.  And of course, I can answer the many phone calls from my kids asking how much longer will it be before I get home, if they can have an ice cream sandwich, and if I can tell Daddy to let them ride their bikes around the neighborhood.

Quick—who won the NYC marathon last year?  Need more time?  G’head.. I’ll give you time to Google it.  If it weren’t for the thousands of regular runners, joggers, plodders, and walkers signing up and paying the fees and tshirts for these races there wouldn’t be such nice prizes for the fast guys either.  Listen, unless you’re a professional runner, it doesn’t matter what time you finish the race because no one really cares but you.    You just have to finish it.

~~~~

History of Women's Distance Running

Is It True Women Forget Childbirth?

I went to visit a friend the other day.  She just had a baby.  Actually, she just had her first baby.  I qualify because if you have children, you know there’s a big difference between having your first and having another.  

I walked in, washed my hands with lots of antibacterial soap, and pretended not to want to snatch the little mush ball right off his grandmother’s shoulder.  She asked, “do you want to hold him?” and I feigned shock and surprise saying, “Are you sure?”  I took him and nuzzled into the corner of the couch.  I sat down and forgot myself as I sighed saying,  “Ohhhh.. this is so nice.  He doesn’t move.  He doesn’t talk.  He asks for nothing.  I’ve forgotten how nice this is.”

He is only 3 weeks old.  He still sleeps with his body still curled in a comma position as if there are no bones in this little body.  Occasionally he’d grunt, make funny faces, and stretch out a little arm with clenched fist.  My friend would ask, almost ready for me to say something impressive, “he does that a lot, makes all those grunting noises….”  I smiled and said, “he sounds perfect to me.”  She pointed out small things like potential marks on his face, “is this normal?”  She asked me to review his scalp and make sure there was no cradle cap.  Was his face getting squished on one side? Do you think I should swaddle him?  He doesn’t seem to like it—he makes funny faces.  He sleeps all day but he’s awake screaming all night.  I wish I knew if he was gaining weight. I don’t know if  I’m breastfeeding enough.  I can order a newborn scale you know.  I looked at my friend and saw her face; desperate for answers.  Despite her charts, color coded in Microsoft Excel, this was harder than she had anticipated.

People say you forget childbirth and that’s why we have more children.  I disagree. I defy you not to  find a woman who has had a child not to go into a detailed story about her delivery.  Want to know  where her water broke? How big her cervix was when she got to the hospital?  How many stitches she got… down there.  No? Well, too bad ‘cause she’s gonna tell you.  It is the most primitive thing a woman will ever do.  No matter how it went, every woman has a story.  There has to be a story—how is a head that size going to get through, well,  what it’s got to get through.

Here’s what women forget (I don’t think men do.. not the men I know anyway); the first few months after child birth.  As I sat there thinking how nice it was to hold the newborn, I recalled coming home with my own first born.  Looking at the clock when my husband left each day and figuring out how many hours until he was home. When they cry, there’s no one to rescue you.  You’re in this on your own.  I held him nearly 20 hours a day for a few months.   I once glared at my husband while he did the kitchen dishes.  He looked up and said, “What?”  I was annoyed he couldn’t figure it out and said, “I really would love to do all that—could you just hold him for me?”  He chuckled the same way when I once said how lucky he was to sit in traffic for hours each day.  Now with three young children, it was a privilege to be alone everyday, a privilege I had not experienced for quite some time. 

I gave my friend back her sweet little boy. She asked me who I thought he looked like and I admitted I wasn’t sure.  I got in my car and thought about my three kids at home with their Dad. I can leave the house now without their screaming, “No! We want Mommy! Don’t Leave!”  I don’t have to be back in 90 minutes to nurse anyone.  I almost never have dried food on my clothes in places that everyone else can see and I cannot.  It was true—it was nice to hold a baby that did not move, talk, fight, whine, argue, resist, or challenge.  I do miss that warmth and sweetness of laying in bed with my tiny sleeping newborn.  The looks they gave me simply because I was mommy, that feeling of absolute unconditional love.  But for the first time in my parenting life I backed out of the driveway and thought, “Thank god it’s not me.”

Dear Misguided Guidance Counselor

Tonight my son came home to tell me that you gave him advice for me—advice on how *I* can help Duke do a better job with his homework.  As Duke began to tell me, “Mr. Smartypants said what you should do is distract Zilla and Princessa and make a quiet place for me so I can get my work done.  Say.. from 3:30 to 5 or something.” I felt very much like Ursula the octopus from the little mermaid.  Growing ever larger and taller until I could begin to swing and take my wrath out on the school below me. I think my voice, now growl, even began to sound like hers.

Before I call you and yell, “Who the hell do you think you are?” Let me give you a little background.  For the last seven years I have been doing homework, each night, with a son who did not want to do his homework.  A son so delicate that the least little thing would drive him to tears and prolong the pain for both of us.  Even though I have two other, younger children, I managed to make time for him.  Sure, there were times I was nursing a baby while building a Lego tower with the other and also going over math facts with Duke after I had just singlehandedly made dinner for the lot (actually, 2 dinners since there is one picky eater in my house who always gets an alternate meal) after a full day of care giving, building websites, and that pesky masters degree that I was doing, on the side, too.  Now each evening I have two children to help with homework.  Neither of them want to do it.  Both of them want dear ole’ mom to help (and their father works, so it’s just me here)  Is there a quiet private area for Duke to do his homework?  We have a one story 1400 square foot house with a family of five.  I defy you to find that quiet/private spot.   Of course, had you investigated, you would have known that Duke is home a full 90 minutes before that annoying brother you want me to distract and could easily find some quiet time in his own room, on the desk his father built for him. 

Last year I watched my son begin to crumble in school.  He was doing terribly and his spirit was being crushed.  Even though I still work from home and have 2 younger children, I decided I had to rescue my son and pulled him out to home school him.  Was it a lot of work and a decision I made with great trepidation?  You bet your ass it was.  Do I regret it?  I think his current 92 overall average is a testament to what I did with this boy.  When I pulled him out he was failing nearly EVERY subject.  Today?   He will likely be on the high honor roll list, maybe even the principals list for the first marking period. 

And finally, I just want to point out that  I initially sent my son to school already reading, already above grade level in every subject.  And how was he returned to me? Sad and feeling as if he wasn’t smart.  After teaching him for 6 months I have sent him, again, a boy with renewed confidence,  diligently working every night on his homework, doing amazing on tests, and having an overall A average. Before you send this boy home with an armful of contrived advice for ME, I think it is YOU that needs to make sure that you’re doing everything YOU can to ensure Duke’s success.  Either that, or I’ll take him back and do it myself.

My $11,000 Necklace with Matching Bracelet

Recently, there’s been a lot of hubbub over the FCC’s new rule on bloggers and social media.  If you endorse a product in return for compensation (money, free stuff, tickets, shoulder rub) you need to say so or be fined $11,000.  If you want to know more about the rule, go here. 

I bring this up (I almost always have a point—almost) because I just made a necklace and bracelet with some really pretty new stones.  These stones were provided to me absolutely free from an online retailer called ArtBeads.com. 

There are a ton of new colors for fall.  After wearing nothing but silver and blue this summer, I was psyched to do something in copper/brown tones.  I made a multistrand necklace and bracelet using the materials (which if you ordered it yourself would come up to about $35 to 40 depending on what stock you had in house.  I already had a clasp, crimps, and copper wire.)

First, the bracelet.

I used copper wire for both strands.  On the one strand I strung these really cool toho cube seed beads in bronze.  Every so often, I’d throw a Simplicity crystal (in golden shadow) on there.  The crystals are a slightly new shape.  They remind me of bicone, just squished a bit.  And then on the other strand I used the pearls which are really the most pretty part of the pieces (in my opinion).   They are 9x8mm Asymmetrical Pearls in Bronze. 

Second, the Necklace

The necklace is also multi-strand but I made the inner strand shorter to make it more obvious.  I also left gaps between the beads for two reasons: you can stretch your supply a bit, and also, when using a pretty wire like copper, it’s ok to let it show.  What I did was glue those beads in place using really super strong hypo cement (you can find that anywhere.  I usually get mine at Michaels—who did NOT give me one stinkin’ thing to mention that).    The bottom strand is covered in beads varying between pearls, crystals, and toho cubes.  Some close up shots are below.  I also had a really pretty Antique Copper Keepsake Clasp Set for the closure.

   

Hope you like the necklace and bracelet and remember, they were given to me by Artbeads.  The links above go to their site.  For what it’s worth, the ship pretty quickly and have just about whatever you need in stock (plus they just got in all the newest Swarovski crystal colors).  And, I have bought from them in the past and before they gave me the beads—so I can say it with confidence.  Honestly, I wouldn’t have taken their offer if they weren’t decent anyway.

Now I’m curious though.. what if I endorse myself?