Where I distract myself with my children

I am….troubled by the news out of Boston. Is that the right word? Troubled? Saddened? Shocked? Sickened? Worried? I’ll stick with troubled. Qualifying for the Boston Marathon is on the mind of any runner, no matter their level.

They say you start running for individual reasons, which are far too numerous to try to list. You run your first marathon to prove that you can do it. You run your next marathon to prove that you can better your time. You continue running marathons to qualify for Boston, the only major, non-championship marathon that requires qualification. I, personally, am nowhere near qualifying — my first marathon was in the 5:30 range, and I’ve yet to complete a marathon in under four hours (though I believe I could). But, now, well, I’m tempted, more than I’ve ever been, to chop minutes per mile off of my time. I believe I could average 9 minutes per mile over 26.2 miles….I’d need to average 6. We’ll see if I can make my legs do it.

Crossing a marathon finish line is a joyous feeling – a “holy shit, I did it” combined with a “I am going to be able to sit down in just a little bit.” There is fear on a marathon course, “what if I don’t make it? What if I get injured?” thoughts plague. But the finish is pure elation. And soreness. But elation. But now, fear & solemnity enter the mix. But enough about horrible events (as I write this, little is known about who or what motivated the attack, but I have full confidence that those responsible will be found and brought to justice), as I have cute kids.

• Scheduling changes have turned “lunch with the family” day from Thursdays to Monday. Yesterday, CJ arrived at the restaurant asleep and proceeded to sleep through the entire lunch.
• Leila will throw absolute hissy-fits if I put the wrong-color sippy cup lid on the wrong sippy-cup.
• Last weekend we went to visit family in rural PA. During the trip, CJ became obsessed with camping (he really, really wanted to stay in a tent) and Harry Potter. My heart grew three sizes with the reveal.
• Typically, the kids fall asleep in their own beds, but find their way over to the master bed at some point during the night. I’m used to waking up to find CJ’s curly hair tickling my nose. Leila has “her spot” on Duffy‘s other side. In the middle of the night, last night, however, I woke to find my daughter climbing all over me. When I asked what she wanted, I got her grumpy voice saying “daddy cuddles.” So she got Daddy cuddles.
• Both of my children have started trying to do reverse-crunches to “do exercise like daddy.” This is great, but when they want to help me with my push-ups by climbing on my back, well . . . kids get heavier and they haven’t learned to sit still yet.
• Horsies say “yee-haw.”
• Having two kids who are, approximately, the same age, mean that they can give each other horsie rides. Horsie rides by a sibling, however, pale in comparison to horsie rides from a bigger person.
• CJ really doesn’t like it when I shave my head. He used to have a fascination with my hair-trimmer . . . then he saw what it does and wants nothing to do with it. Personally, I love his curls.
• Leila only likes corn if it’s corn on the cob.
• Little is more frustrating than hearing your toddler son get out of bed and explain “I need to tell you something” in an attempt to explain why he doesn’t need to go to bed.
• Your heart melts when that “something” is the words “I love you, too.”
• The biggest challenge of being a parent is to not laugh or fall for “the cute” when “the cute” is being used to get them something they want but should not have.