I can slowly run a 5k on any given day, assuming the conditions are right. You know, the sun is shining but not too bright, my playlist plays just the right non-lame music to keep me going, it’s not too early in the morning, but not too late at night or I’ll never get to sleep. I’ve eaten enough to not be crabby, but not too much to feel like hot garbage.

Conditions? I have a lot of them. Translation = running happens when I’m being chased by a pit bull or something, which unfortunately isn’t really that out of the ordinary for me.

But every summer, I sign up for my fair share of crazypeople races. You know, races where you get to dress up ridiculously, possibly jump over fire, wade through rivers, get pelted with neon crack packets…. and of course rehydrate with cheap beer. Yes, those are my races and it’s no wonder I keep putting off the Indy Mini Marathon.

I run races where the person that has the most fun WINS. (And I always win. Always.)

This past Saturday I was invited to join a bachelorette party as they ran The Dirty Girl Mud Run.

The Dirty Girl Run in a sentence (or two): A women’s only non-competitive 5K that includes 10-12 “mud” obstacles. Cool part? A portion of the entry fee goes towards cancer research, and cancer survivors run for free.

A sentence (or two) about the team I joined, Cathy’s Bachelorette Brigade: For Cathy and her lovely lady friends, this was the first stop before a night of dinner and dancing. When I was asked to join the brigade, I was told the uniform had to be an old prom dress or bridesmaid dress. Cathy was the bride, and we were her mud maids. Cathy wore her original wedding gown from her 1st marriage (because she is awesome), and wouldn’t you know it, twenty plus years later she still fit in it like a dream.

Cathy, best of wishes to you on your big day next month. Glad I could be a part of the dress trashing (and the dress literally did end up in the trash bin) party.

And because pictures are better than words…..

BEFORE:

DURING: (thanks Dirty Girl for the use of the awesome photos)

AFTER:

You guys, I had an absolute blast. Cargo nets, wadding through piss creek Deer Creek (the event took place on the grounds of the Klipsch Music Center, aka Verizon, aka Deer Creek), and plowing face first into a mud-pit. It was my kind of race and I highly recommend if ever you get the chance. Nationwide there are 59 races this year, you have a chance. TAKE IT, TAKE IT, TAKE IT!

And yes, you are in shape enough to participate. And there’s not shame in your game if you want to walk around an opstical or 10. Not kidding, the oldest member of our team was I believe was 82 years old. I admire her spunk to the moon and back an I want to be her when I grow up.

And yes, there is beer involved at the end of the race for those who like beer. I like beer and I had two.

Next up for me? In 2013 I have my sites on a couple color runs, a barbaric army crawl under barbwire-on-fire type race, and of course a race called the Tap N’ Run.

Join me? Because it’s no fun to run alone.

*thanks to Dirty Girl for providing me with a race bib exchange for this post. I was otherwise not compensated, assuming you’re not counting the dirt that I still can’t get out of my places.

Only one season before “completing” my career, I just quit. Never mind the 10 years of time, energy, and money OH THE MONEY my parents put into my talents, I was just done and I didn’t care about anyone but myself.

Hindsight, I regret my decision.

I’m pretty sure I broke my parents hearts for not finishing out my senior year in the pool. But regardless of what they wanted, they let me make my own bad decision. A decision that I would regret as an adult, but a decision as a teen I needed to make for myself.

Piper and Nola started violin this year. One of my children flourished and thrived, while the other went kicking and screaming to each and every practice and performance.

I’ll give you two seconds to figure out which of my daughters hated being told what to do, and how to practice.

It was early on into the season that she decided she hated it, despite having a blast at the twice a week practices. She adored the friends she made, and she fell in love with her teachers (except for that one teacher that made her play laying down looking up at the ceiling, that wasn’t fun).

But whoa girl, each and every day we asked her to practice, and each and every day we made her go to group lessons, we were met with exceptional resistance.

It’s been a year of Level 18 on the Nola Rage scale. And we’re beat down and tired.

So we asked her to make the decision.  She could quit if she really wanted to, but still needed to finish out her commitment of the season.

Tonight was her last performance, and she did so great. She was adorable, and I know she had a really fantastic day. The tiniest little blonde head in the group, that was my girl.

But this was her last performance. Even as we bounced out of the symphony hall high on adrenalin and a post-performance capri sun, I whispered in her ear and asked her if she was sure she wanted to be done.

Yes, she stilled wanted to be done, and I respect that.

As we walked back to our car, we decided to reward ourselves by popping into a candy store adjacent to the orchestra hall. I told both Piper and Nola to take a few minutes and pick out one piece to celebrate a job well done. As we were shopping, another family from the orchestra had the same idea.

The boy (who was a junior in high school) and his mom over heard that Nola had just retired and was hanging up the violin. The older and “wiser” mom looked at me and made it clear that “she pushed her kid” and I shouldn’t give up so easily on Nola. Her 17 year old son rolled his eyes at me and basically made it clear he does not enjoy playing his instrument, but his mom makes him.

She then went on to say that “he’s going to play in college whether he likes it or not, because he’s going to get a scholarship.”

You guys, I’m going to parent exactly opposite of this woman.

Sure there are things we have to do. We have to go to school. We have to keep our room tidy-ish. We have to show respect and kindness to those around us, and we have to obey most of the laws our government has set before us. These things are not options.

But we don’t have to play the violin, or swim, or enter the spelling bee if it makes us miserable. If we start, we must find a reasonable stopping point, but the agony doesn’t have to go on indefinitely.

Everyday I wake up and this parenting thing gets harder and harder. I want to be supportive, without cracking a whip. I want my kids to stay strong and never give up, but know when it’s ok to throw in the towel and not feel shame.

This girl has no shame, only a sense of pride and accomplishment that she played her last piece, The Happy Blues.

Celebrating her violin retirement with a fancy sucker reward. She’s my fierce and determined girl, and I love her.

The employees are super helpful and willing to slow down and chat. AND CHAT, AND CHAT SOME MORE.

The checkout lane is always some sort of happy hour-ish (and I mean 60 minutes of happy). It’s where you discuss favorite food combinations with stragers (Peruvian rice + fresh broccoli + orange chicken = TO. DIE.) What you’re doing with the rest of your day (why do you ask? Shall we go get tattoos together or something?). And of course a conversation about your kids names and if they would like any complimentary stickers to put on the interior of your passenger side window.

I honestly do love this place. The employees are honest and genuine, and the food is great. Did I mention the employees are honest?

At checkout last week:

Cashier to Gage: So what’s your name?

Gage: My name is Dage.

Me: No, his name is Gage. He has a bit of a problem pronouncing, well, almost everything.

Cashier: Did you name him after that creepy kid from Pet Cemetery? I love scary movies!

Me: Nope.

Cashier: That’s cool. What are the names of your other kids? (as she reaches in for a Paul sized high-five but quickly retracts after she realizes he’s attempted to eat a fig bar with little success of getting any of it in his mouth.)

Me: Um…Piper, Nola, and that’s Paul.

Cashier: Piper, Nola, Gage and Paul? Wait, his name is seriously Paul!? Did you just run out of out of names or something? Piper, Nola and Gage are super cool names. But Paul? Could you not come up with something better? He’s going to feel left out when he gets older….

Me: No, he was named after a couple dead relatives. (because sometimes you just don’t have the energy for the long sentimental story)

Cashier: ( after an awkward 3 seconds of silence) Ok, well here’s some stickers to put all over your minivan! Have a great day….Paul.

You guys, I know Paul isn’t a novel name. It’s not unique, and it’s been around forever. I have four kids, and quite frankly it’s actually the only name in our family that holds any meaning. And yes, I’m mildly ashamed and self-conscious of that.

Piper, Nola, Gage and baby Paul. No, I didn’t run out of names with my last one, but thanks for giving me a good chuckle at your boldness in assuming I did.

Paul, you should have been a Mingus.

Even Dage, my kid (not named after) that scary kid from that low budget late’80s movie knows when it’s best to just keep his mouth shut. Oh wait, no he doesn’t. You should have heard what he said to our Taiwanese server yesterday…

The weekend started with a wee bit o poopie, reeking (pun intended) a little bit of havoc into our previously schedule weekend plans. Sewage ejector thingies on the fritz? Yeah, you don’t want those to break. Especially on Friday afternoons. Our plumber was “busy with boy scouts”, which, let’s be honest: whatever.  I’m going to go ahead and also speculate it actually meant: “ew, no way in hellz I’m dealing with that on a Friday night, find yoself another crazy foo”).

Thankfully, Michael is really awesome at dealing with this family’s crap (again, pun intended) so he became the man for the job. Three trips to Lowes, a few dry heaves, a basement that smells like a turd, and 12 hours later, whatever was broke has now been restored.

*three cheers and a growler full of beer for the stinky husband*

Anyway, enough about our bathroom habits. Aside from the unfortunate events mentioned above, we really did manage to turn a turd of a weekend into somewhat of a rainbow.

And as I’m sure you are aware, Saturday was May the Fourth. And well, we had a date with the Millennium Falcon Experience.

We donned our best Obi-Wan Kenobi gear, and headed out to the Indiana State Museum.

We enjoyed a virtual “ride” through hyperspace, and I think my kids minds were officially blown.

And just like an animal that can smell fear, I swear the local reporter sniffed my socially awkwardness out from across the room. Of course I was interviewed for the evening news. Here’s the live link if you want to giggle nervously with me:

Star Wars exhibit at Indiana St. Museum

Any-who, if you have Star Wars fans under your roof, you absolutely must checkout this exhibit (if you live in Indy) while it’s in town. I mean, only if you want to geek your geeky freak out.

And then on the 7th day, May the 5th, cinco de Sith, we drank margaritas and discuss the events of the day before.

Not a bad weekend, not a bad weekend at all….

We’re enjoying these warm days by doing what we always do. Work a little. Play a little. Clean a little. And love a little. Gage has upgraded his black rain boots to red rain boots, and rain or shine he wears them.

Little boys, they make me laugh all dang day.

For instance, last week he was a little dick. Like, dick enough to not eat dinner, and so dick he just wanted to lay around and watch screen all day. But not so dick that he couldn’t ride his gooter, or eat copious amounts of nacks whenever he felt like it. Fortunately for all of us, the dickies have passed and he’s feeling back to his normal unintentionally hilarious self.

And our new favorite “treat yourself because it’s Tuesday and you deserve it” celebratory beverage has become chilled bubble tea. Basically, it’s a smoothie with tapioca boba balls mixed in. Friends, I could drink these unexpectedly delicious concoctions everyday all day if I didn’t have to drive across town and pay $2.75 a glass to enjoy them.

Fortunately for us, it’s not too hard to justify a treat. You know, we treat ourselves for not throwing a tantrums in Trader Joe’s. And we treat ourselves for waking up with dry SpiderMan under-roos. And sometimes, we treat ourselves because it’s the very last day of the month and mama met all her writing deadlines.

Speaking of which, working from home is probably the best gig ever, of you can keep yourself motivated enough to stay on task. For my last Disney post of the month, I wrote about baby Paul taking his first four steps. He hasn’t taken a step since, but you guys, I’m calling him a walker.

Work things. Tasty things. A few of my favorite things:

1. My dear friend Casey turned thirty-fun last week. Last night a handful of us ate sprinkle cake to celebrate. Shireen out-did herself with this one. I mean, it didn’t even look or taste anything remotely like clown puke. Happy Birthday Casey, DesignHER Momma lurvs you.

2. Kids shoes. I’ve giving away a $60 gift certificate to UMI. Friends, they’re expensive I’ll admit. But totally worth it. If you win, shop the sale section and I bet you can hop away with two pairs. (because that’s what I would do)

3. Freakers, man. Have you ever become obsessed with something and wanted to buy it in every color? Yeah, that. They came out with some new ones recently and I’m resisting the urge. Also, I’m considering hosting a sweaty backyard party in August just so I have an excuse use ALL THE FREAKERS.

4. You say BUMBLE, I say RIDE! It’s not everyday I get to give away a $400 stroller. But guess what, it’s totally happening right now. And if you don’t win, I honestly do think this stroller is tops and would 100% spend my own money on it. Honesty is the best policy, right?

5. Cool threads by AXL Brand. This small start-up is my new favorite and I wish I could afford to dress Paul “axl cool” everyday of the week. I’m having a blast promoting their gear, and of course there is a giveaway.

6. Page turning. I’m reading this book, Dark Places, by Gillian Flynn for book club. It’s dark and scary, in a good way. Kinda like me. Kidding not really.

7. Götz. Dare I say these dolls are better than those other 18″ doll with patriotic flair. About four years ago Michael bought Piper one when he came home from a business trip to Germany. Guess what? You can now buy them in the states (which is a new exciting development). And yup, there’s a giveaway for that too!

So yeah, stuff around here is good and well. Now go find yourself a frozen boba tea and relax in the sun for a few minutes. Because you deserve it!

I remember a time not so long ago when I would look at my body in a full length mirror and feel completely ashamed. Other women, other friends, they look so amazing! Why, oh why, did my poor body appear so messed up and ugly?

I remember a time not so long ago that I would have been mortified if anyone other than my husband and kids stepped foot into my home without warning.  Living in a constant state of disarray and chaos, I hung my head in shame.

I remember a time not so long ago when I was sad, very sad, because I was sad all the time. I had no reason for my sadness, other than I was sad all the time.

I remember a time not so long ago when a dear friend of mine urged me to trust her. She asked me to read a post she just wrote, convincing me that it actually would get better. That maybe I couldn’t see it now, but things wouldn’t always be like this. That the light at the end of the tunnel was a real thing and not just an illusion.

That it wouldn’t always be this hard.

That better, easier, less heavy days would surely follow.

You guys, she was right. Things are actually getting less exhausting. I mean, I still have four kids and they necessitate so very much, but I’m in such a better place mentally and emotionally than I was a year ago.

Today, I wasn’t tired from a sleepless night nursing a baby.

And today, I washed my face and put lip gloss on. I got the girls off to school, and then the boys and I ran errands. We were like, normal people doing normal activities.

We went thrifting, and I found a perfect laptop bag straight out of the 1950′s. (process that one for a minute)

We got groceries and nobody threw a tantrum. And I didn’t even have to bribe the 3 year old with a bag of Chips Ah-noying.

We went to the park and had fun.

I made dinner, and even had a few impromptu friends show up for added company.

You guys, it was so great.

Basically, I had a pretty fab day, and I’m optimistic tomorrow will be nice as well. Because fab days are starting to happen consecutively.

It’s totally true, what they say. The baby fog will actually lift and at some point, you will feel human once again.

You will find yourself saying: yes, I can totally do this parenting thing. It’s totally hard, but I will survive! And maybe even like it!

Friends, that’s where I’m at (I think). The heavy blanket has been lifted, I’m basking in the light at the end of the tunnel.

And sure thing, don’t be surprised if tomorrow I’m all OMGEEEE MY KIDS ARE GONNA KILL ME LEMME TELL YA ABOUT IT…. (because that’s totally going to happen, right?)

But for today, I’m starting to feel lighter. Realizing that the warm spring sun is actually shining in my direction, and I’m present to experience it, even if it is  just for a moment.

So the first year living downtown, that’s often what we did. Until Miles changed all that.

It was a sweaty afternoon in August. Not like 100 degrees hot or anything, but warm enough that if you start moving around too fast, your pants would start to stick to your inner thighs. On this particular afternoon, there was an outdoor art festival going on just down the street, and of course we wanted to attend. So we grabbed the baby and strapped her in the stroller (this was in my pre-babywearing days), packed a few snacks, and put Miles on the leash.

The festival was about a mile away, totally walkable for young nimble bucks such as ourselves. We made it there without incident, perused the craft booths, bought a frozen banana (there’s always money in the banana stand), and started to head home for nap time.

But instead of having a spring in his step, Miles decided to perform a peaceful protest. Yes, he refusing to walk even one more step.

He laid down, and refused to budge. (he was fine, totally hydrated and healthy, instead just acting like a baby)

After getting extraordinarily embarrassed at the scene witness by what felt like 1,000 pairs of eyes, the only option was to take Piper out of her stroller and instead strap Miles in. The 5 point harness? Yeah, I used it. Through packed city streets, we got laughs, stares, and strangers pulling out their camera (this was before fancy cell phones) to take a photo of the dog being pushed home in a baby stroller, and the baby being carried home by her mother.

Since that day over 8 years ago, Miles doesn’t go to events with us anymore. Because honestly, I have four kids and the last thing I need to worry about is carrying home the fat dog.

He still gets out during the week as my shot-gun carpool buddy to pick the kids up from school, but when it comes to puppy athletics, he’s best left to being a cheerleader.

This is Miles. He like puppicinno from the coffee shop (honestly, ask for them, it’s free), heated leather seats in the winter, and a cool 50 mph wind breezing past his jowls via passenger side window in the springtime.

He’s my lazy old man friend, and I love him.

But for those of you who have a dog that act like a dog, there’s a super fun event coming to town next weekend!

It’s Mutt Strut 2013, and if Miles wasn’t such a geriatric, we would be there.

Here are the details:

When: April 27th (next Saturday)

Where: The Indianapolis Motor Speedway (walk the dog around the famous 2.5 mile Brickyard track, along with like  1,000 of his furry buddies)

Why: To benefit the Indy Humane Society.

How much: pricing varies a bit, but if you sign up today it will cost you somewhere between $35-$40.

And if you can’t attend the event but want to make a donation to the Indy Human Society (it only costs $10 to microchip a pet), please consider giving what you can.

So will you be there?

This week, this month, it’s been emotionally and mentally challenging.

These days, I’m not watching the news or even really even turning on the TV. I squint at facebook and twitter through half-opened eyes, glancing over my feed quickly before shutting it back down. Because if there’s one thing I do know about myself, it’s that sometimes ignorance is bliss. I don’t need to know all the details, and see all the photos to understand the magnitude of brokenness being experience.

I know people are suffering. I know there’s widespread unfathomably pain taking place across this country, around the globe. And just knowing that is enough information and saturation for me.

And while I’m trying to stay away from media as much as possible, this morning I found myself having a hard time doing so. For whatever reason, I couldn’t turn off the television. I could physically feel my anxiety level heighten, yet there I stared.

At 9am, the babysitter came for the boys and instead of working from home how I normally do, I packed up my gear and headed down the street to the coffee shop for a change of environment.

And wouldn’t you know it, love and reassurance meet me at that coffee shop and my hope in humanity was renewed over a hot latte and toasted bagel.

As I sat plucking away on a super boring freelance article (just being honest here, it’s not always fun and game), I was privileged to witnessed firsthand the best moment of a complete stranger’s life. Without any warning (or dropping of the knee *ahem* what’s up with that?), the women sitting in the booth next to me was offered a marriage proposal and a very beautiful engagement ring.

Between audible gasps, she said yes.

I need to see this LOVE. I needed to feel this extreme joy and happiness. My bad mood and pessimism  were washed away with her happy tears.

On dark days, when we start to think violence and hate for our fellow sisters and brothers is the norm, it’s refreshing to be reminded first hand that there is a ton of good to be had.

That girl I saw get proposed to a couple hours ago from across a coffee shop booth? She’s having the best day of her life, I know it. And to witness such elation on days when the world feels so dark and heavy is refreshing.

This all consuming hate and violence preying on our souls? I’m optimistic that we can beat it.

Let’s seek out the lovely, and figure out how to make it multiply.

Best! Days! Ever! (they don’t have to be a thing of the past)

But then then the conversation took a turn for the funny:

Hey Nola, what did you learn in school today?

“we learned about animals (oviparous, what?). They lay eggs and hatch babies”…

yadda yadda yadda…..the chicken and the egg story…eat your asparagus or else…. blah, blah, blah…

One thing led to another, everyone got to talking and joking at once, and now Gage somehow believes I sat on him for 8 months. Yes, he thinks he hatched from an egg. Because naturally, he did.

Sure thing, I’ll correct him tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.

But for right now? My boy thinks he hatched from an egg.

It’s funny, no?

(I’ll fix this before he starts dating, promise)

(it’s only temporary, I’ll show him The Business of Being Born sometime before he goes to high school)

**********************

And not at all on the same subject, but equally frightening is baby Paul’s love for being outside.

He’s brave enough (but not graceful enough), to go sliding down the kiddo slide by himself.

Greg Louganis, you have competition. This little dude is smooth. A perfect “10″.

Amirite?

Also, you’re welcome.

And even though I’m completely in need of a nap and housekeeper, I’m so glad that we went ahead and did the trip. It came and went in a blink of an eye, but because the days fly by and melt into each other like chocolate Easter bunnies let out in the sun, Spring Break 2014 will be here before I know it.

A few things I’ll always remember from SB 2013 (a bullet point list, of sorts):

- My baby sister got engaged.

- Paul refused to eat anything unless he found it in the sand, and lucky for him Gage’s favorite activity just happened to be throwing food in the sand.

- Piper officially decided she wants to scoop ice cream for a living, and Nola wants to work at the cheap crap souvenir store. This makes me a very lucky lady, as it looks like I’ll always have a hook-up for a shark tooth in a bottle, or a lacquered up shrunken alligator head for my mantel. College savings? WE DON’T NEED NO STINKIN’ COLLEGE SAVINGS ACCOUNT!

- Speaking of college, Michigan State kinda blew it in that bball tournament thing. And last night, I actually found myself rooting for UofM for the first time in my whole life, which is basically the equivalent of hell freezing over.

- Also worth noting: I shouldn’t shuck steamed oysters after a couple beers, and my new favorite drink is called a Miami Vice. Mmmmm, frozen rum drinks on the beach while grandma keeps the kiddlets entertained BEST EVER.

- Paul fit a whole lot better in that middle place 15 months ago. Next year, he’ll still be my baby, but his shadow will be standing on it’s own.

- And then there was that one time when I just wanted to the kids to play independently on the beach for 5 short minutes, and I found myself saying: “why don’t you just pimp out your hole for a while”. Not exactly something I ever thought I would suggest to anyone, let alone my children.

But this hole? It needed some serious pimping. Back rests, cup holders, places to store the shovel. Time consuming details, but totally worth the effort.

And lastly, I was reminded that my people are pretty great. We might drive each other nuts most days, but wow do I sure love them.

Selfies. So much better at sunset with a sandy ring pop in your mouth.