Chewymom

Exactly 33 minutes ago, my spring allergies started. I had just picked up Brig and Drew from their schools, and I was headed over to get Sally, when WHAM!

My inner ears and throat started itching.

Then my eyes started feeling scratchy.

And then I sneezed.

How do they do that? One minute I’m fine, the next, it’s spring allergy season! I’d love to find someone who could tell me exactly what started blooming at 3:13 pm, Central Daylight Time in northern Alabama!

I have mostly boys, so you would think they really wouldn’t be terribly “into” purses. But they are. As of the last week or so.

Move over Paris Hilton, because my kids want me to get a purse to carry Mr. Darcy. Maybe something like this:

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And while that is tempting and kinda fits me with its sling style and all, I rather think that I prefer this:

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I mean why carry your pet in a purse when the pet can actually be the purse. What is a store owner with a “no animal” policy going to say when you stroll in with that? It’s not a pet, it’s a purse!

My only question: does it come with a pouch for my lipstick and a mirror?

Sally announced this to her proud Daddy this morning. And followed it with, “April Fools!”

She is five and already gets how this day works. Sort of.

So friends, I did it! I walked the ING 1/2 marathon in Atlanta yesterday morning, along with my sis-in-law Heater (who comments on my blog sometimes) and her friend Marjorie!!! It was a really neat experience. The race was huge–nothing like the little local 5ks I’ve done. Several years back, I might add.

We started out in Corral 7. The last corral. Which was fine by me. I had no desire to be trampled by 15,000 enthusiastic runners. Still, somehow we started in front of some runners. And folks, I’m about to make a generalization–something I don’t usually like to do. Female runners are rude. More than one made a snide remark about the walkers. I paid my money and did my training, just like they did. Although I’ll grant you, there may have been a wee bit more pain involved in their training. Still.

And then there were the men….At one point we joined back up with the full marathon runners. As people zipped past us, I lost count of the number of kind men who called out, “Great job, Ladies!” “Keep going, you’re doing great!” I lost count of the women who called that out, too. Because there weren’t any!

So the race was great, the medal is cool, and the post race beer wasn’t really there at the finish line, waiting for us, as we had been promised. But that’s okay, because I was a combination of freezing, exhausted, exhilirated, terribly sore, and starving to death. Beer is most likely not what I needed.

I was supposed to drive home last night, but I had brought my hubby’s cute little Honda Fit which happens to be a stick shift. I had also taken my 15-year-old son Ben, who was an excellent traveling companion, but completely useless as a driver because he does not yet know how to drive a stick. My drive home involves several hours of gear-shifting as I cruise through the mountains, so I put if off until early this morning. It went fine, by the way, except that whenever I had to climb out of the car, my legs did not want to straighten, so I walked with a weird, jerky motion, rather like the man whose body is taken over by an alien in “Men in Black.”

Tonight, after spending my day driving the stick shift, going to class, using the elliptical, driving carpool, and watching one of my guys play soccer, I collapsed into the bathtub. After a while in the tub, I began to wonder if I would actually be able to pull myself back out and wondered if my husband and strong boys could get me out. And then I thought better of that plan because like most people, I bathe naked. And while my husband might appreciate the sight of me naked in the bathtub, my children would not. I looked up, probably to roll my eyes, and noticed the handicap bars. Hallelujah! I was able to hoist myself out of the tub, and I noticed that my legs felt much better after a long, hot soak.

Heater and I are already planning our next walk. A destination half-marathon! Virginia Beach? San Diego?

Here I am, back from a relaxing cruise, and you’d think I’d have all kinds of stuff to write about. And actually, I do have a few thoughts swirling in my still-rocking-and-reeling head. But unfortunately I have been side-tracked by a pesky little procedure called a root canal.

Yep, I had my first root canal yesterday. It really wasn’t as awful as I expected. Weird, yes. The side of my face was, thankfully, numb, but there was that weird sensation of them prodding and yanking and pulling, and I halfway expected to see some brain-matter come out of my mouth and get deposited on the bib across my chest. If they did get any of my brain, it was in tiny, unrecognizable pieces.

Aside from a general ache in the vicinity of the tooth, I am mostly unharmed today. Although something about either the procedure or the high amounts of Advil I am consuming seem to have set me back a day or three in my recovery from the post-cruise vertigo I was experiencing. Things seem rather fuzzy again, and the room keeps swaying.

In other news, I am headed out of town tomorrow. My sister-in-law convinced me to participate in a half-marathon with her. We’re walking, by the way. I ran a few races several years back–5Ks–and developed plantar fasciatis. I’m not sure my foot ever totally recovered, so although I can walk long distances without it flaring up too badly, every time I try to run, here it comes again. So, our race is on Sunday, and I am really really excited! And admittedly a little bit nervous since I didn’t quite follow the training schedule. Do you know how hard it is to tell your family on a Saturday that they need to do house and yard work, and Oh by the way, I’m leaving for a three hour walk on the trail beside the river! Have fun, y’all!” I’m sure my sis-in-law and I will be so busy talking, the miles will just fly by. And hey! Luckily for my brother we’ll be all talked out when we arrive back at the house!

So “root” for me. (Get it? “Root?” As in “root canal?” Hahaha…I crack me up.) Or just wish us luck, or speed, or happy feet or whatever on Sunday!

We added this little 2.5 pounds of silliness to our family. Meet Mr. Darcy:

As the date of our cruise approached, I started feeling really self-conscious. First, I have to get in a bathing suit. Folks, that ain’t pretty. The gazillion pounds I intended to lose after Christmas didn’t happen, and although I am happy with the ten pounds off of my body, I can’t say I am exactly thrilled at the cottage cheese thighs and the triceps that continue to wave long after my hand has stopped.

And then there’s the issue of my ghostly white body. I realize that most people going on a cruise have probably invested time and money in a few sessions in a tanning bed. Or at least a tan in a bottle. I have not. I am pale, I always will be pale–something I came to realize in middle school when a bottle of QT (QuikTan) turned me bright orange. And the Sun-In gave me hair to match. Ahhh, the seventies.

My hair hasn’t been cut since about October, and my highlights that were supposed to be covering up the gray had grown out to about my ears, giving me an odd horizontal stripe going around my head. Kinda like a fallen halo.

I decided a trip to the salon was in order. Just for a haircut and highlights. And while I was there, I figured I might get some help with my stray eyebrow hairs which were popping out in odd places like my forehead and down close to my cheeks. And then there’s my lip. Never had to worry about my lip before, but the 10-hair, black mustache growing on the right side only of my lip was starting to get a little noticeable against my sickly pale complexion. Yep, best to have a little waxing done. Something I think I have done to my eyebrows about twice in my entire life. But folks, this is a cruise I’m going on. And if I can’t be skinny and tan, at least I can have good hair on my head and less hair on my face.

The haircut and highlights came out great, by the way.

The face didn’t fare so well.

My upper lip has bumps where the hairs were ripped out. Little pimples where my skin was screaming, WHAT were you THINKING ripping the hair out by the root? I suppose that’s why men shave. But can you see me cruising along with a 5:00 shadow on one side of my lip? Me neither. So instead I have bumps.

And the eyebrows. Oh my. I guess you’re supposed to cool the wax before applying it. And maybe my beautician and I were spending too much time chatting and too little time paying attention to the minor detail of the temperature of the wax. But the skin above my eyebrows got burned! For the past two days I have been walking around with what appears to be shiny eyeshadow on my eyelids. In fact, it is Neosporin. The skin continued to look more and more…shall we say crisp. Meaning I had this strange look of constant surprise on my face, because–and if you’ve never singed the skin just above your eyes, you might not know this–burnt skin doesn’t move easily when you raise and lower your eyebrows. Today the skin finally peeled off, and I am left with the new appearance of wearing red eyeshadow just above the crease.

So all that to say, I am looking especially lovely for my upcoming cruise. White skin, spider veins, cottage cheese thighs, red eyeshadow, and a constant look of surprise. I think it all sets off the new haircut quite nicely.

To the dear friend who put this on my car:

I know who you are. I know where you live. Clearly you have not read about my Master Prankster abilities. You are dealing with a pro. Even my own daughter is not safe from my prankstering. Revenge is coming. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

I first met Dean about six years ago. Our families became fast friends–parents with five children have to stick together! We ended up forming the Birthday Club along with three other couples, where we got to know Dean even better.

We learned that he worked with wood–a cabinet maker. The kitchens he had helped build were beautiful! Dean also was a passionate drummer and had an entire room in his home dedicated to his drums. And his bicycle–he also loved to ride.

He was diagnosed with a brain tumor several years back, and he had to quit working as much. Which was bad for him, but nice for us, because we were able to commission him to build us a round table to go in our new kitchen. He measured and planned, he complained slightly at how difficult a round table was turning out to be, and then one day he arrived at our door and delivered what has to be the most beautiful piece of furniture I own. A table that will seat all seven of us comfortably, and can accommodate up to three extra people!

And when I complained that it was TOO BIG and I couldn’t reach across, he built a matching lazy susan.

That was last summer, and in about October, he learned that his tumor was growing again. We have watched his slow physical decline, and enjoyed his intact sense of humor and dry wit over the last few months.

And last night we got the call we knew was coming. Dean has lost his battle with his tumor. But he hasn’t lost–he has won. His suffering and pain of the past weeks is over. His withering body has been replaced with a new one, and he has now met Jesus face to face!

My husband wrote a beautiful tribute to Dean about a vision he had of him, and posted it early yesterday, just hours before the vision became reality. Read it here.

Last night I went to see U2-3D with Mongoosemom. I really, really like U2, but let me tell you my son Ben and Mongoosemom are both borderline obsessed with U2 and Bono. There was no waiting until the second day for those two. So Ben and Chewydad went to a local theater, while Mongoosemom and I went to a fancy theater one town over–an adult-only theater with recliners and beer and margaritas and such. Very fun!

Mongoosemom is definitely the person to take to a movie, because after it was over she begged the bartender to give us the two hats sitting in the display on the edge of the counter, and he obliged her. Check it out!

And go see the movie–it’s totally worth it. These 3D glasses aren’t your old “Spy-Kids” ware, nosireebob. They are high-fashion black plastic. And they make it look like Bono is about an inch from your face, which is very cool. And the drums…ah the drums. LOVED the drumming in 3d.