My Own Attempt at being a Stylist

You might recall that a month or so ago, I was lamenting the fact that Cristina gave herself a mullet.  Well, I absolutely hated the mullet look on her.  Then, to make matters worse, she found some scissors on the dining room table and went to town a little more on the front of her hair.  It seems she can't help but cut her hair when she comes across a pair of scissors.  I wish she would have let me get a good picture of it, but this one is the best that I could do - a side view of the mullet before she totally hacked up the front.

On Saturday, I decided that I had enough of my child walking around looking like a hot mess. I decided to take matters - er, scissors- into my own hands.  After all, how much worse could she potentially look?  So, I take Cristina into the bathroom and sit her on the counter.  I wet her hair to make it easier to cut.  She starts wailing like I am going to kill her with the scissors.  You'd think by now she'd be excited to see a pair of scissors. Well, you can only imagine how difficult it is to cut a child's hair while she is wailing and being constantly distracted by her big sisters.  At one point, I yelled at Charlotte to get out of the bathroom and closed - quite loudly! - the door behind her.

It took a few more minutes, but I managed to finish up without hurting myself or Cristina.  I actually was quite proud of the bangs.  I've never done this before, but they looked great with the slight exception of the part that she had previously cut extremely short.  The back was not quite what I had hoped.  One side was slightly longer than the other, but with all her wiggling around I decided I was done for the day.

The next morning, when she was in a better mood, I finished the job.  It ended up quite cute to my relief.  I'm not sure I'll do something like this again in the future, but I was happy to save the $12.99 I would have spent at Great Clips getting them to save the disaster area that was her head.  She actually really likes it. When you ask to see her hair, she'll turn around so you can see the back.  I figure when it grows out some more, I'll take her to a professional to really fix it.  The new hairdo makes her look so much older - no more of the little baby curls in the back.  Anyway, here is the final product. 

Half-Marathon Training: Week Two

Week Two was a definite improvement over last week.  I learned from my mistake last week and made sure to get up earlier for my longer run today.  I also took a bottle of water with me.  These little changes resulted in me finishing my run today without feeling like I was going to die of heat exhaustion.  I used the same workout I created in my Garmin last week again today.  When I finished, I had gone .26 miles farther than last week, was .1 second faster, and shaved 55 seconds off of my mile average.  I was pretty happy with the result.  I'm still a good ways away from my goal pace, but I felt like that was good progress for a week.

The other two runs, I did on the track at the gym.  It was a little crowded on the track, since all the students are back on campus.  I had to dodge a few girls in sandals strolling around the track gawking at the guys below playing basketball.  Otherwise, the runs on the track went well and I shaved almost five minutes off my total run time.  I was reminded today that it is much harder running outside than on a flat, air-conditioned track!

Next week, the Saturday run is supposed to be 5 miles.  I finished 4.79 miles today, so next week shouldn't kill me - assuming that I don't screw up the Garmin workout and end up setting it up to run 6 miles!

Around the Dinner Table

The girls crack me up sometimes with the things they come up with on their own.  This was our conversation at dinner the other night.

Emma: I don't want to get married when I grow up.

Me: Why not?

Emma: Because when you get married, you have to change your name.  I don't want to change my name.

Me: Well, you don't have to change your name.  You could keep your same name...

Brian: Or you could add a name.  Your mom didn't change her name until we'd been married for over a year.

Emma: No, I'm not getting married.  I'm going to live with Charlotte.

Charlotte: Yes, when we are teenagers, we are going to live together.  I'm going to marry someone I meet, so we can kiss, and have babies.  Emma is going to take care of the babies, cook, and clean.

Emma: I'm really good at taking care of babies.  I'm going to live with Charlotte and never get married.     [They go on and on about this and Brian and I leave the table.  The next part I overhear while feeding Ella in the other room.]

Charlotte: I think you should get married.  If you're gonna live with me, you have to be married.

Emma: No, I do not want to get married.  We already agreed on this and you said I could live with you and take care of your babies.

Charlotte: Well, now you have to get married to live with me.

Emma: Forget about it then.  I'm just going to live in this house with Mom.....or maybe we'll get another house with stairs and I'll have my own room upstairs.  I'm not getting married and living with you.  I'm not taking care of your kids.

I'm thinking Charlotte blew it!  Emma is really good with babies and would have been a big help for the teenage couple.

Gumbo

I can't believe that I never got around to telling this story, so here it is....Brian and the girls planted a garden earlier this summer, which has provided us with a lot of fresh veggies all summer long.  It's been a real blessing for the budget to cut our produce bill!  Anyway, recently, we have been getting quite a bit of okra.  Now, Charlotte is a huge fan of Princess Tiana and she has a Leapster game that talks about chopping vegetables for gumbo.  So, she knows that you need okra to make gumbo. 

So, a few Sundays ago, I decided to make gumbo with our fresh okra.  Awhile back a student that worked with me brought me a gumbo seasoning mix from New Orleans.  I had yet to use it and I figured this would be the perfect time.  So, Charlotte, Emma, and Cristina were all in the kitchen helping me with the gumbo.  Charlotte chopped carrots and okra.  Emma diced up onions, peppers, and celery.  Cristina looked cute, which was helpful.  The gumbo turned out to be fabulous and the girls were all excited that they had helped to cook gumbo.

Fast forward to the next morning and I am running late getting ready for work. I come out of the bedroom and am walking to the laundry room to grab some clothes.  Emma and Charlotte are standing at the dining room table beaming.   They announce that they have made me gumbo for breakfast.  They are super excited.  There is a bowl of diced vegetables - celery, cucumbers, carrots, okra, and tomatoes - swimming in salty, seasoned water.  Now, as much as I wanted to appreciate their effort, the thought of eating this mix made me want to barf.  I had just brushed my teeth and in general I don't like to eat right after that anyway.

So, I say, "Mommy is running really late for work today.  I don't have time to eat right now."  Charlotte says, "Well, breakfast is really important."  Emma says, "And you need to eat your vegetables."  (Cringe....they've learned so much from me!)  So, I stall a little and say, "let me finish getting dressed and I'll be back." Then, when I come back, they are still at the table and have added a little spice to the mix.  I feel awful as a mom, but I just cannot eat this stuff.  If the veggies weren't floating in water, I might have been more inclined. So, I say, "It looks yummy!  Why don't you put it in the fridge, so I can have some when I get home?" 

Thank my lucky stars this appeases them.  When I came home, my bowl of "world famous gumbo" as they called it was waiting in the refrigerator.  They seemed to have forgotten about it by then.  Thank goodness for short term memory in kids.  A few days later, it made its way into the trash.  My mommy guilt has really got me on this one.  Weeks later and I still feel bad about not taking a bite of their gumbo.

Finally! Happy Times with Ella

I thought I owed it to Ella to tell the world that she is turning out to be a pretty fun baby.  I have complained about her colic, reflux, and poor sleep habits, so I decided it was time to celebrate the fact that we have turned a corner with her.  I realize as I am typing this that she will surely regress for a week as my punishment for bragging on her.

For so long, it was difficult to get Ella to sleep at night.  For hours on end, I would soothe her to sleep only to have her wake up five to ten minutes later and have to start the whole process over again.  It got to where eventually I was so worn out that I would go to bed with her.  In the last two weeks, I have had success 90% of the time in getting Ella to sleep between 7:30 p.m. and 8:00 p.m.  Once she is down, she will generally sleep until 5:00 a.m.  Amazing, right?

Ella is clearly spoiled rotten as evidenced by the fact that she believes she should be held and entertained 24 hours a day.  So, we are trying to work on getting her to entertain herself for a few minutes at a time.  We've made some progress this week.   She has a little play center that she is willing to stand in for, oh, I'd say a good five to ten minutes before screaming to be picked up.  She is an avid bookworm and will actually lay on the floor or sit in her bouncy seat listening to the crinkle of the baby book for at least ten minutes at a time.  She will contentedly hang out on her tummy for two to three  minutes or maybe grab at her toes for a minute or two.  If you add all this time together, in the course of a day, she can easily entertain herself for 18 to 24 minutes a day.  Reason to celebrate in my book!

Here are a few recent pictures of our sweet little one!

I love her little thighs in this picture.  Doesn't she look happy?

Look at me!  I'm entertained by my sweet face in the mirror.

 Ella is working on sitting up.  She kind of has the hang of the tripod thing.

Toes!  A baby's best friend.

Did you need something, Mom, because I'm kind of in the middle of a riveting story right now and I'd really like to get back to it.  'kay?  Thanks!

Half-Marathon Training: Week One

Brian decided that he wanted to do something monumental to celebrate his upcoming 40th birthday.  A few months back, he mentioned that he would like to run a marathon this year.  He asked me if I thought he could do it.  Now, I don't want to be dream crusher, but I also don't want to be a widow.  I sweetly suggested that maybe he should start with a half-marathon, since he has yet to run an entire 5K.  Being the reasonable soul that he is, Brian decided a half-marathon was a worthy goal.

Fast forward to a month or so ago and we both registered to run/walk/crawl the Savannah Rock-n-Roll Half-Marathon on November 5.  I am super excited about the race.  It has been over a year since I finished the Princess Half-Marathon at Disney World. A number of my favorite people are running the race, so it should be a really fun day. 

Last Saturday was twelve weeks until race day!  Most race training plans are twelve weeks long.  On Monday, I decided that it was time to get serious about training, so I can finish the race in a respectable amount of time.  At the moment, I am doing run/walk intervals, since my body hasn't quite recovered from the injuries brought on during my last pregnancy.  I figure it will be better to finish in one piece than have to have hip replacement surgery in November!  Anyway, I ran/walked three miles on Monday and Wednesday and did cross training on Tuesday and Friday.  This brings us to Saturday morning.

On Saturday morning, I was set to run/walk four miles according to the training plan.  My plan was to get up early and go out before it got too hot out.  Unfortunately, I ended up staying in the bed until almost 9 a.m., so it was just a few minutes before 9 a.m. when I downed some water and then headed out the door.  I had set my Garmin up to time my intervals, so I can work on building up to longer run intervals.  The first twelve of sixteen intervals went pretty quickly.  Then, the sun started to really blaze and I started to get a little weary of running around my hilly neighborhood.

I was nearing the end on my 15th running interval when I had to go straight uphill for a long stretch.  At this point, I was tired and cursing myself for not bringing along some water.  I was about halfway up the hill when I thought to myself - "Am I walking or running right now?"  I was technically running, but it was so slow, I might have done myself a favor by walking! When I made it home and checked the stats on my Garmin, I had actually logged over 4.5 miles and burned closed to 800 calories.  If I had done a better job calculating my run/walk intervals, I might could have saved myself from that awful hill at interval 15.

One week down, eleven to go!

Girls Fight Back

So, every now and then, I find myself about to embark on my long commute home and realize that I have no magazine, library book, or educational articles to read on the train.  When this happens, I will scan the bookshelf in my office to see if there is anything I haven't read there.  Now, I've done this so many times that I have read about 99.9% of the books on the shelf.  Last week, when I found myself in this situation, I grabbed a book that I had received in the mail called Girls Fight Back by Erin Weed.  The book was sent as a promotional item to encourage bookings for Erin Weed.

I started reading the book when I got on the train and apparently I got so engrossed in it that I didn't even realize the train had reached the end of the line.  I glanced up to see a lady that always gets off at the same stop as me walking off the train.  It was then that I realized I'd better get moving before I got shuttled back to work.

The author of the book was inspired to get involved with teaching women self-defense after a sorority sister was murdered.  The book is filled with various scenarios that women face and tips on keeping yourself safe.  It was not the kind of a book that a mom with four daughters should read.  As a woman, I already imagine all sorts of terrible predicaments that I could get into.  Even thinking about these things happening to my girls makes me feel sick to my stomach.  It also makes me mad that we live in a world where women are constantly blamed for bringing violence on themselves.

I was reading this book the same time that I was reading various articles on oppression for a class I'll be teaching this fall.  I'm not sure if it was the combination of this or just some bad luck that I've had this week, but I have been up in arms about white men this week.  I've decided in the span of a week that white men are some of the most inconsiderate and oblivious people on the planet.  I guess it is the white male privilege that contributes to their living in oblivion.

My first example of this is a frequent occurrence on the MARTA. White men have no sense of personal space when they sit next to you.  They will practically sit on you when they choose a seat next to you.  While half-sitting on you, they will pull out their sleek laptops and set up shop.  Or they will open a newspaper wide and read it, while periodically poking you with their elbows.  I get annoyed just seeing one headed in my direction on the train.  Other women and men are much more cognizant of staying in their own space on the train. It's really not that difficult of a concept.  Perhaps the white man can be taught.

My second example comes from my track rage the other day.  I was spending my lunch hour running the track and was trying to see if I could improve my 5K time on the track.  So, I'm running in circles for about 20 laps and feeling good because I am about one to two minutes ahead of my time.  Then, I come around the track and the clock is at 00:12.  I am FURIOUS!  Ahead of me are four older white men in business attire casually walking around the track and one lone white male jogging. So, I first ask the lone jogger if he reset the clock and he says that he never uses the clock.  I go around again and I hear one of the walking suits say, "how many times have we gone around now?" Another one says, "I reset the timer, so we can just check it."  Never mind that there is a sign right by the timer that clearly states, "Please do not reset the timer when others are on the track."  So, because I am heated over this, I have a few words with them.  They just smirk at me without apologizing. Seriously, white men can you just not think about yourself for a minute?!

First Day of School

Today was the first day of school for Emma and Charlotte.  Emma, the seasoned second grader, was ready to go back to school and see her friends again.  Charlotte was absolutely beside herself with excitement to finally be going to school.  Over the weekend, I switched the clothes in Charlotte's drawer from 4T to 5T, since she has recently grown half a foot.  She told me all weekend that she was excited to wear stylish clothes, go to school, and be fashionable like Emma.  I'm a little nervous about her taking her fashion cues from Emma, but I digress.

The girls were both up early and dressed before I even came out of the bedroom. Despite the fact that everyone was ready early, Emma still missed her bus.  Mr. Taylor, her cranky bus driver, did the same thing last year - showed up five minutes early and left half the kids stranded.  We drove Emma to school and she hopped out to go into school.  I forgot to remind her that she wasn't riding the bus home, so I jumped out the car to yell and remind her.  Clearly, I committed a cardinal sin.  Emma looked at me like I had grown an extra arm and said, "I know."

(Side note: Emma's lips are really chapped, which is why she looks like she is making a creepy face in this picture.)

After dropping Emma off, it was Charlotte's turn to go to KinderCare.  I was wondering how she would do considering that she has never been in day care or spent any significant time away from home in a structured environment.  When we walked into her school, she walked right up to her teacher, Ms. Shuli, and gave her a hug.  Then, she grabbed this abacus off a shelf, sat down at a table, and started playing.  She didn't seemed concerned at all that we were leaving her!

I remember a few years back taking Emma to her first day of pre-K.  Leading up to it, I felt totally fine about it.  I knew should would like it and I was sure she'd be well behaved.  (I am a little more worried about Charlotte's behavior.)   I dropped her off and as I was walking out the school, I suddenly was overcome with emotion and started crying.  I realized that it was the first time in her life that I wouldn't know what she did all day.  When the girls are at home, Brian can fill me in on all the excitement of their day. Now, I would have to rely on them to share with me what they did during the day.

This is my biggest problem with school.....well, maybe it is a problem with the girls.  Getting them to share what happened at school isn't easy.  When I asked Charlotte this evening, she told me she couldn't remember.  Emma had a few more details, but even she didn't have a lot to share.  Brian did get some details from Charlotte's teacher.   Charlotte was well-behaved (whew!) and the only kid that sat still and listened to the story during story time.  On the other hand, when Brian walked in, Charlotte was yelling at some boy, "Give it back!  You snatched it from me!"  Now, that is the Charlotte I know and love.

Remembering Cristina

Tomorrow (August 10) is the birthday of a dear friend of mine from graduate school, Cristina Manieri.  She would be 35 tomorrow, if she was still here to celebrate with us.  Unfortunately, she passed away not too long after she turned 31 years old.  It has been almost four years since her death and I still think of her often.

Our daughter, Cristina, is named in honor of Cristina Manieri.  It was one way for me to keep her memory alive. Whenever people hear that I have a daughter named Cristina, they always assume that I named her after me.  They think it is cute that I have a junior.  I always stop and tell them that I didn't name her after me.  Then, I get a chance to share with someone about my amazing friend.

Cristina is too little now to understand that she is named after someone.  I can't wait until she is a little older, so I can show her pictures of Cristina and tell her stories about the person whose name she bears.  In some ways, little Cristina reminds me of Cristina.  She has a round face that lights up when she smiles and can be so sweet and loving.  Cristina was always laughing and loved to do things for other people.  In graduate school, I thought she was crazy because she always had students in her apartment until the wee hours of the morning.  She loved to spend time with them and mentor them.  Personally, I valued my sleep a little more!

Another of little Cristina's traits that I attribute to Cristina is her stubbornness.  Obviously, battling breast cancer can make you stubborn.  Cristina never wanted to give up on the idea that there was some treatment or experimental medicine out there that would work for her.  She was always so hopeful about things and I hope that my Cristina will have that same hopeful outlook as she grows up.  I can manage the stubbornness that is keeping little Cristina up as I write this because, while it isn't fun with a toddler, I know that it will help her persevere in her future goals.

Here is a picture of our family with Cristina and her mom the last time I saw her.

Cristina created a shirt at an online store.  I bought one for Emma and Charlotte and eventually it got passed down to Cristina. She is wearing it in this picture.  The back of the shirt had Cristina's words:

"acquire spiritual insight throughout your journey---cancer cannot silence prayer or faith---it may challenge our beliefs---but God sends angels that guide the way during the bleakest moments---HOPE does exist on the gloomiest of days  -- stina manieri"

This is a recent picture of little Cristina. She must have gotten her fashion sense from her namesake.  Cristina always had a love for clothes.  I remember visiting her in Dallas while she had one of her first rounds of chemotherapy and there was laundry all over the place.  We spent half of my time there washing and folding laundry.

Rest in peace, Cristina.  Know that you are missed.

Sibling Rivalry

Emma and Charlotte have an ongoing feud regarding who gets to sit by me at the dinner table.  For the longest time, Charlotte sat on my left and Cristina sat on my right.  I guess one day Emma had enough of this arrangement and decided to boot Charlotte out of her seat.  She asked me one night if she could sit next to me at dinner.  I told her that was fine.  Charlotte was ticked that Emma was getting to sit by me.  I told Charlotte that Emma asked first, so she got to sit next to me.

You can imagine what happened next.  Whenever it was close to dinner time, one or the other would come racing into the kitchen to ask if they could sit next to me.  I'd say yes to whoever would ask me first.  A few times, Charlotte has asked me in the morning before I've gone to work, but usually they wait until the evening.

Fast forward to today....I am leaving work when I notice that I have a voicemail message on my cell phone.  I hit ignore because this is what I always do.  I'll decide if I want to listen to the message after I see who left it.  The missed call was from "My Home," so I decided I should check it to see if Brian needed me to pick something up on the way home from work.  I call to listen to the message and just barely audible, in a tiny whisper, I hear - "Mommy, can I sit next to you at dinner?"  Emma just used her newly acquired phone skills to one up Charlotte!

What a Chore!

A few weeks ago, Brian and I were beyond tired of the mess that the kids make in the house and decided that it was time for them to pull their weight around the house.  We decided to give them five age appropriate chores to do each day.  They all have to brush their teeth and hair, pick up their toys, put their clothes in the hamper, help out a little in the kitchen, and keep their bathroom clean.

We introduced their chore charts on a Sunday afternoon.  I'm going over it with Emma when she tells me, "I guess this means we are doing everything around here now."  I had to count to ten and then a hundred before I could calmly say to her, "Emma, all these chores are basically about cleaning  up after yourself.  Mommy and Daddy are still the ones cooking, doing laundry, cleaning the bathroom, etc......"  She grudgingly agreed that she wasn't doing everything.  In the middle of this conversation, Brian was silently praying Emma would stop talking for her own good. 

So, the girls started their chores the next day.  For each chore they complete successfully, they earn a sticker.  If they get all five stickers for the day, they get what we call their daily sticker.  At the end of the week, they get 50 cents for each daily sticker they earned.  Giving them an allowance was also part of our evil plan to stop spending money on treats for them all the time. Now, if they want candy at QuikTrip, they have to buy it with their own money.

On the first night, Charlotte finished her chore of setting the diningroom table.   Emma came in and didn't like the fork that Charlotte set out for her, so she got another one from the silverware drawer.  Charlotte immediately burst into tears and screamed, "You ruined my chore!"  She was inconsolable until we told Emma that she wasn't allowed to change how Charlotte set the table.  Brian and I also let Charlotte pick out our silverware and she thought it was hilarious that we were eating with kid forks.

Since then, we've had no major drama with the chores.  The girls are doing okay with it. They don't earn their daily sticker every day, but they are doing better at helping out around the house.  To our delight, Emma decided to use her allowance to buy batteries for her camera and MP3 player.  See, you really can teach them to take some responsibility for themselves. Whew!

The Importance of Listening Well

When you have small children at home, you have to really concentrate on what they are saying to be sure that you hear them correctly.  Case in point:

Scene: Cristina, Ella, and I are all on my bed.  I'm holding Ella and Cristina is sitting next to me.

Cristina: Iwannakillher.

Me: Huh!!?

Cristina: Iwanna killElla.

Me: You want to do what?

Cristina: I wanna carry Ella.

Me: Whew!  Ok.

This is an actual true experience.  It was one of those times when you really hope you didn't hear what you think you heard.  Cristina has this tendency to talk with a very high voice and string all her words together into one long word.  It makes it very difficult sometimes to figure out what she is saying. When you combine that with the fact that I can barely hear over the constant din of other kid's laughing/talking/crying, the dishwasher running, the TV or music blasting, and the voices in my head, listening well and asking clarifying questions are even more important.

I've been doing some reading

I've been a little slack on blogging, but I promise it is only because I've been doing a lot of reading.  It is interesting how the books I read tend to have overlapping themes even though I don't intentionally choose them that way.  In the last two weeks, I've read Barack Obama's Audacity of Hope, Letters from Young Activists, and Snow Falling on Cedars.  The thing that struck me in all three books was the idea that if we all cared a little more about others than we care about ourselves, then the world would be a better place.  If that is too hard, then maybe we could all work on being a little more empathetic towards each other.

It took me forever to read Obama's book.  It wasn't that the book was bad.  It was kind of like reading a brief history of the United States.  I like history, so this wasn't a problem for me.  While I was reading the book, I kept wondering to myself why he picked the title. The book didn't seem that hopeful to me - quite the opposite.  It left me wondering how we as a nation have moved so far from our founding ideals and wondering if we could ever get close to the ideals that we espouse.

The Letters from Young Activists  was an interesting read.  In general, I think I have pretty liberal views.  However, after finishing this book, I look downright conservative in my views and opinions.  The book was filled with letters written by activists under age 30.  They wrote about the prison industrial complex, the imperialistic nature of the United States, and the oppression of various groups within the United States.  Although I wouldn't say that I agreed 100% with all the letters, reading the book did expand my thinking on various ideas.  In my opinion, this is what good reading is all about - expanding your mind and viewing the world from a new perspective.

Snow Falling on Cedars is a fiction book about that is set around World War II in an island off the coast of Washington.  The story centers around a murder trial and as the story unfolds you learn about a lot of different people who live on the island.  One focus was on the Japanese internment during World War II.  I was really heartbroken reading the stories - even though this was fiction.  I was reminded how little I heard about this during history classes.  It seems like this part of our history was just a footnote in the textbooks.  If we didn't gloss over the harder parts of our past maybe we could move a little farther in our present.