the recessive traits child

He's it. If you were to do a Punnett Square of me and Bruce (both 3/4 Asian and 1/4 Glow-in-the-dark Irish Pale), he got all the recessive genes. And this auburn child obviously needs a haircut, but he's been such a happy guy all summer, it's hard to hold him down and make him cry if we don't absolutely have to. After having a slew of sicknesses and constant ear infections for eight straight months, he's been a different kid June thru August. Like Happy Dwarf. Cheerful, funny and charismatic. But then, as if to acknowledge a definitive end to one of the best and busiest summers in the history of On family summers (school starts tomorrow!), he woke up yesterday with goop...coming out of every orifice of his chubby body. "Let's remember when he was a happy guy, okay?" I said to Bruce over the din of EZ's intermittent screams. I'm just readying myself for another 8 months of cranky. We threw a Back to School party with the kids tonight. Tutu and Yeye cooked up a feast, the kids made their usual "go-to" dessert {berry trifle}, and Uncle Nate cut out paper crowns for them to wear. Bruce gave each of them a blessing, full of love and hope for the coming year. I was thinking about how we are in a magical moment of existence right now (or it could be my constant state of exhaustion that makes this whole life deal feel pretty dream-like). I get like this every time we have change. And I can feel the edges of my children's canvas expanding as we make room for it...learning...growth...maturing. I might even make some changes to the 'ole blog... like start writing again. I've said this before, though, so I can feel you narrowing your eyes at me. You're right... no promises.

"ball? ball? ball? ball?"

EZ is at the ball obsession stage. And has been for approximately 8 months now. (woah...reality time check: my baby is almost 18 months old!!). More specifically, he is obsessed with lining up Bruce's golf ball just right and swinging the club to make the ball soar off the back steps. Bruce!?!?!

All he wants to do is be outside. And if he's not outside due to rainy circumstances, he wants to feel the breeze on his little face at the window. My sisters and I just watched the newest version of Wuthering Heights with Tom Hardy. That part where Cathy is pregnant and on her death bed and all she wants is to feel and breathe the wind of the moor on her face...yeah. That's EZ. Minus the dramatic and dangerously forbidden love story.

why running is not really a solo sport

I'm blogging from the D.C. airport right now, on my way home from a surreal weekend with my sisters, my mom, my Lola, and my brand new nephew (more on that later).

Since I ate my weight in carbs and sugar this weekend, I knew I needed to squeeze in a run at some point in time. I designated Saturday as the day and kept vacillating between logging 8 or maybe 13 miles. (i think i knew this was never going to happen). But Saturday morning rolled around, and after my sister and Matt endured an 18th consecutive sleepless night, I needed to stick around and hold my little nephew while they attempted to squeeze in a few short hours of shut-eye. Audrey and her brood, my mom and Lola showed up a few hours later, ordering pizza, and my hopes of squeezing in a run were gradually diminishing as the day wore on. Who wants to run 13 miles with a belly full of vegetarian pizza? Sick.

But then at 3:00 p.m., things settled and my chance to step outside finally arrived. Despite the drizzle and chill, my body was tingling with that familiar combination of anticipation mixed with dull dread. The first mile of every run just sucks. But I put one foot in front of the other and began finding a rhythm. I turned down one street and made a left onto Main. I passed a few smokers and window shoppers and then I spotted a fellow runner going the other direction on the opposite side of the street. He was a big, black guy wearing a red fleece, blue track pants and a beanie. I liked the way he loped along, like he was going somewhere with a purpose, and in that instant, I decided to change my course and follow that dude.

After approximately 200 yards (with me trailing behind), we came to a stoplight. He was busy jogging in place as we waited for the light to change, and I innocently looked in the opposite direction for fear he might realize I was following him. The lights changed and we were on our way. I stayed several yards behind him, but I kept him always within sight. He never knew I was behind him, and we continued on like this for 3 miles.

Then all of a sudden, he turned around and started coming back the other way. I wasn't quite sure what to do then... "Do I turn around, too?" I thought. I could feel my face start to flush in embarrassment. I looked down as we started to pass each other, but in that moment, he said, "What's up!" and high-fived me. He high-fived me! I was totally euphoric. In that moment, we were no longer strangers. We were comrades. We understood each other. We were runners.

He continued back the way we came and I turned down a perpendicular street. But though we went our separate ways then, I smiled thinking about this kinship I felt out there on a random street in Pennsylvania with this random stranger who unknowingly motivated me for three miles of that run. I decided then that running isn't a solo sport. Not really. We are all just part of a community of like-minded people who get that logging in the miles on our feet is hard and hurts but there is satisfaction when all is said and done. No one regrets finishing a run.

I went 6.39 miles that day.

p.s. This photo is from The Woodlands Half Marathon one month ago. My time was 1:51:54.

blue bonnets, or the one where i'm freaking out about rattlesnakes attacking my baby

While hanging out with Kathryn one morning, she said, "Let's go take pictures in the blue bonnets!" Now, I'd seen somewhere on Instagram (legit source of information) something about how rattlesnakes like to hang out in blue bonnet fields, so I was like, "Yeah... no. That's okay." She said, "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" (Referring to the whole rattlesnakes in blue bonnets thing.) And since I succumb easily to peer pressure and her magic behind a lens, I was on board three seconds later.

















Six hours later, she was sending me a report on how rattlesnakes do, in fact, like to hang out in blue bonnet fields. There's a Sunday School lesson in this... anyway, yay for blue bonnets and once-in-a-lifetime experiences! Because we are never doing pictures in blue bonnets again. Ever.

On a more positive note, real friends cut your baby's hair when you're too lazy to do it yourself. Even when they're like 14 weeks pregnant and wanting to vomit all over your baby while he's screaming bloody murder and their own 18-month-old is crying in proxy anger in the background over cut hairs. You're a good one, K.

my little garden gnomes

My blog is just embarrassing now. And today I've only got crappy iPhone photos for you. Not gonna stress about it...

But what's new with us? These dudes planted the other day during their spring break and M likes to pose hard for every picture nowadays. Just focus the lens her way and she's got an automatic crick in her neck. Love that girl.