Umm…  Well…  It’s been nine days since I blogged.  I kept meaning to but life got in the way.  You know how it is.  Schools get announced as Level Four.  Husband goes out of town.  You celebrate your birthday for three days straight.  Dinner plans happen three or four nights in a row.  Family comes into town.  Internet doesn’t work at current location.  You know, the usual.  But, now that I’m here, I  am sure I’ll be back regularly and you can all breathe a sigh of relief.

There’s a lot to catch you up on, but, in all honesty, the thought of even attempting to relive the past nine days of my life gives me a headache almost as intense as the last nine days.  Yeah.  It’s been rough.  Except for my birthday weekend.  That was fabulous, mostly due to my loving husband making sure it lived up to all of my expectations.  So, in an attempt to get you up to date and get me back in the saddle, I’m just going to keep it brief.

1.  Zhining took me out for my birthday.  A very Thai birthday.  Zhining was very upset that the Thai restaurant did not have cake.  We substituted with mango crepes (which were, incidentally, delicious).

2.  Justin got me a Nook for my birthday.  I.  Love.  It.  Just finished my last “real” book (The Help, which is definitely worth a read even if you have seen the movie).  I fought going digital with books for a long time, but I’m not in any hurry to go back.

3.  I went to a baby shower for two of my students (one baby – I have Mom and Dad in class).  They are two of my favorite kids, so I went.  Even though I was totally unprepared for what awaited me.  Just so you know, not everyone does a baby shower during the late morning or afternoon.  It was a real party that went all night long.  As the only white person, I lasted right about two hours.  I really need to learn Spanish…

4.  Justin started my birthday celebration at 11:45 the night before.  When I got back from the baby shower, he had baked a cake.  We both had pieces right then and there and rang in my birthday in style.  Then, Sunday morning, he got up with Robbie, fixed breakfast, AND cleaned up.  We went to the park for some family time.  I got to get a massage.  Justin and I went on a date for coffee – mostly because we were not sure about Rob’s chances for survival if we stayed in the house with him another second.  Then Micah and Allie came over for pizza and Uno.  Perfect.

5.  My house is falling apart.  Seriously.  Remember the tile I so proudly mentioned fixing?  Nope.  Didn’t dry right.  And the tile around the faucet in the bathtub?  Yeah – that came loose, too.  Oh, and my dishwasher was leaking.  Which turned into my sink leaking out the unattached dishwasher hose and creating a disaster in my kitchen.  Thank God for Kevin, fixer of all things broken.  At least I hope.  He stops by tomorrow to see how bad it is…

6.  My family came in town for Thanksgiving.  We are in Sturbridge, and I’m just so glad to be away from reality for three more glorious days.  It’s nice not to be in charge anymore.

Feel exhausted?  ‘Cause I can fill you in on all the work stuff, too.  But, I guess that’s for another blog…

Let’s be honest.  Running is something I have never been good at.  Even when I was younger.  I played on my freshman soccer team in high school, and we were supposed to start every practice with a two-mile run.  I never finished.  Not even once.

Fast forward into my twenties.  Knee surgery.  Impressive weight gain.  I can remember trying to convince myself that my body was just destined to be fat.  That 285 pounds was where my body “wanted” to be.  I shoved myself into a size 20, refusing to buy the 22 or the 24 that would have been more comfortable.  I knew I should lose 100 pounds but could never find the every to start because it would be such an arduous, time consuming task.

It’s no secret that I’ve been on my own weight-loss journey for the past two years, that I’ve struggled to shed my old self.  And this weekend, I set out to shake that last part of myself loose.

Look at this picture.  Do I look nervous?  Terrified?  Because I wasn’t.  Should have been, as I was about to embark on a 13.1 mile run through Newton.

A friend offered me some advice – breath in and enjoy the birds singing or the guy jiggin to your right and the woman kickin ass to your left…. Enjoy your moments cause it goes by faster than you think.  And she was so right.  It was over almost before I knew what happened.

I tried so hard to be aware of everything around me during the run.  Feeling the air rush into my lungs.  Focusing on my feet as they hit the ground.  Letting the beat of the music pulse through my body.  Air drumming as I ran (something I’ve never done before but felt pretty accomplished at by the end of the race).  Challenging myself to keep going.  And remembering my reasons for running, advice that was on a sign I passed twice on the course.  And, both times, it was exactly where I needed it.  It was imperative that I remember, that I focus on taking care of myself.  Because, when I do that, I can accomplish anything.

Did I run the whole thing?  Almost.  I walked through the water stops (because, really, who can run and drink water?) and up four of the hills.  But I busted through probably 12.85 miles at a run.  Not a fast run for most people, but it was a pretty good clip for me.  I averaged an 11:30 mile (5.2 mph) and finished fourteen minutes faster than my goal.  2:30:55.

As soon as I stopped running, my body was done.  But the entire time I was on the course, it just kept going.  It never hit a wall.  My body did what I never thought it could.  What a surgeon told me it never would after I had two screws put in my leg.  And now I know that, if I could run a half marathon, I can do anything.

It’s time for me to get ready to bed.  After all, I have an early morning tomorrow.  A 7:30 start time.  My first half marathon.  Something that, a year ago, I told Justin I would never have any desire to do.  And now?  Here I am, ready to put 13.1 miles under my belt.  Ready to keep moving myself forward to the person I’m becoming.

Yes, I’m terrified.  The longest I’ve run is eight miles.  And I’m not fast.  At all.  In fact, I’m pretty damn slow.  However, the only important thing is that I do it.  And, even if I have to walk the last eight miles, I’ll probably be able to finish in three hours.  My goal is 2 hours, 45 minutes.  Just fast enough to match Justin’s time for his first half marathon.

So, please, if you happen to be awake at 7:30 tomorrow morning, say a prayer for me.  And I’ll talk to you on the other side of 13.1.

Justin and Robbie love Capri Suns.  L-O-V-E them.  So much so that Justin nearly jumped up and down in the aisle when he saw they were on sale, five for $10.  Somehow, we managed to escape the store with only three boxes.  Neither one was able to wait until we got home to have one, though.

Fast-forward to tonight, when both boxes were empty in the refrigerator (have I mentioned that Robbie knows how to open the door and get his own food and beverages?).  Robbie was supposed to be cuddling upstairs but he quickly slid his naked behind off the bed and ran out the door and down the stairs.  I heard a lot of bumping and a few cries of “Boo boo!” but figured he’d eventually work itself out.

After a few minutes, Robbie ran back upstairs and told me to help him with juice.  I looked down the stairwell and only saw my socks.  In my ignorance, I said, “Robbie, those aren’t shoes.  Those are socks.  They’re OK.  I’ll clean them up later.”  He kept pointing down the stairs and insisted I look as he started back down.

And then I saw it.  The very full box of Capri Suns.  At the bottom of the stairs.  Pulled in from the shelf of the baker’s rack in the kitchen.  But, bless his little heart, he just couldn’t get it up the stairs.  And how can you say no to dedication like that?

When Justin picked Robbie up from daycare yesterday, Zhining told him that she would only be open until 10:30 today because she had an appointment and the Chinese grandparents across the street couldn’t watch the kids.  Which created a problem.  I missed work last week because she didn’t have electricity and had a lot that needed to get taken care of today.  And Justin had a full week of work to catch up on.  Oh, and he had a test tonight.  His last one, actually.

You know what that meant, right?  It meant that he got absolutely nothing done.  He just called to fill me in on his day.  It involved a lot of coloring.  Lunch out.  The park.  And that’s about where the fun ended.

Robbie refused to take a nap, insisting on cuddling with Justin in bed while watching cartoons.  And, as he has recently discovered the joy of being naked, he refused to wear any clothes.  Apparently, this was successful for about an hours and Justin did manage to get some work done.  Then, nothing was good enough for young Robert.

He didn’t want Elmo.  Or Sam.  Or ‘Ickey.  He just wanted Justin’s attention and was willing to do anything he could to get it.  Including climbing all over Justin, throwing papers on the floor, and just generally being a pain in the neck.

Pretty much sounds right, doesn’t it?  Except Robbie is never this way for Justin.  Only me.  But, not today.  Not today.

I haven’t seen much of Robbie pretending.  Sure, he dances around and makes animal noises when prompted and asks to sing songs.  But I’ve never actually seen him make believe.  Until tonight.

Robbie was in the bathtub, playing with his toys, when he brought a bowl up to the side of the tub, covered with a blue Elmo washcloth.  I wasn’t quite sure where this was going – really, I was just praying that he wouldn’t send the bowl of water over the edge again.  Then, wide-eyed, he informed me that he had a cake.

I’m sure I looked at Robbie funny because he told me, very seriously, “Bir-day cake, Mama.”  And then proceeded to pretend to blow out the candles.  For five minutes.  He told me I could have a piece of his cake.  Because, don’t you know?  It was QiQi’s birthday.

And before I could get Robbie out of the tub, he started drinking the water from his birthday cake.  When I told him it was yucky to drink bath water, he looked at me somberly and informed me that it was not bath water.  It was cake water.  Of course.

Robbie has recently discovered his pockets.  They are great for keeping his hands warm, as he discovered while walking down the street after dinner last Thursday.  It almost took my breathe away, the sight of my little boy, walking down the street on his own, hands shoved deep in his pockets.  He looked like such a little man.

It’s not just hands in his pockets.  Robbie has discovered that pockets are good for holding things.  Like, well, money.  The other night, I found a quarter tucked deep into the pocket of his jeans.  On the other side?  A $20 bill folded into a very small square.  In good news, the money actually was his from a Halloween card.  In further good news, I stand to make a lot of money off Robbie when I do laundry.  After all, the one who does the laundry gets the cash.

All hell broke loose when I walked through the door tonight.  It wasn’t really a surprise, though, since I’d gotten an email from our downstairs neighbor that there were spots on their ceiling.  And, don’t worry, you have my permission to laugh.  If it were you, I would totally laugh.

I immediately checked under the sink and was relieved to find that there was nothing leaking from that end.  Then I got the screwdriver, easily since it was actually put away in the right place, and unhooked the dishwasher.  I slid it out from under the counter and saw the sticky goodness in the back corner of the cubby.  And then I looked under the dishwasher and saw the oozing from the out line.  At least, I figured, it wasn’t a pipe.  Hoses can be fixed and this one didn’t do any major damage.

I moved on to the next area of concern: my bathroom.  Mom, if you’re reading this, you were right.  I should have fixed the caulking.  Four months ago.  But, I didn’t.  When I finally went to do it, the tiles all popped up.  Don’t panic.  Everything dried out (and, yes, Mom, I had a contractor look at it!).  Tonight was the night to reattach all the tiles, since everything had dried out.  It took some doing, but I managed to get everything back in place.  Of course, this took time.

Apparently, Robbie got hungry while I was fixing everything that was broken in the house.  I left the bathroom, moderately concerned by the quiet in the rest of the house, and ventured into the kitchen.  Their, I found Robbie standing on a make-shift stool, egg in hand, ready to crack it on the side of the bowl.  He turned, smiling ear to ear, and said, “Food, Mama!  Egg, food.”

And he evidently likes them scrambled.  All over my floor.  With his shoes.  The sheer glee on his face made it difficult to be frustrated with him.  Even as he slipped and slid across the floor, one rogue egg still in hand.  I managed to grab him just before he ran out of the kitchen and tracked egg onto the rest of my floors.  Unfortunately, Barkley was not able to escape Robbie’s cooking lesson.  His head is covered in egg.  But, that’s not on my list of things to thoroughly deal with tonight.  There were three eggs on the floor that had to be cleaned up.  And, in the event that you’ve never had to clean up raw egg, let me assure you that it is not easy.  Paper towels do not absorb the material.  Instead, it slips and slide off the towel and back onto the floor.

But, somehow, when I look at Robbie’s face and see that he really thought he was doing something good, I don’t mind cleaning up the eggs so much.  Not that I like it, but…  I guess it’s all part of having a little boy who thinks he’s a big helper.  And I’ll keep my helper!

Lately, bath time has been hit-or-miss.  It can range from 30 seconds of screaming and crying to fifteen minutes of excessive laughter and splashing.  Tonight, though, tonight was a rare aquatic treat.  Robbie spent an hour in the bathtub.  In frigid water.  Laughing, splashing, and refusing to leave.  I asked him several times if he was ready to get out, only to hear, “No, thank you, Mama.”  And so he kept playing.  I couldn’t bring myself to wash his hair, though.  There’s no way I would have let anyone wash my hair with that ice cold water.  But, hey, whatever makes the kid happy.  It gave me some time to catch up with my favorite little brother.

Today was the day.  Trick or treat.  Robbie talked about it all day.  I know because I was with him all day.  Zhining was without heat, so Robbie went to work with me.  I wound up coming home with him, since we did have electricity (some 160 districts were/are closed).  We made the most of our day, stopping to buy pun’kins and taking in a class at Gymboree.

All I heard all day was about trick-or-treating.  I’m not even sure that Robbie knew what it was, but he knew it was tonight.  He didn’t take off his costume all day – not even for his nap – in an effort to make sure he didn’t miss the event.  When he decided that Justin had worked long enough, he went upstairs and said, “Daddy!  Pun’kins.  Time for pun’kins!”  And he carefully supervised our creation of a “silly pun’kin” and a “Go Cats pun’kin”.  Both look fabulous on our front porch.

Shortly after the pumpkins were carved, Robbie started running around he house telling me to hurry because it was time for trick-or-treat.  Is there some sort of kid sensor that tells them these things?  Because he was absolutely right.  It was time for trick-or-treating.  I was a little concerned about how this would go, since it can take Robbie some time to get warmed up.  It didn’t take long, my friends.  We talked about what to say and that he should only take one piece of candy (that lasted for a few houses), and he was off.

We went to the first house, and he climbed up the porch after an older trick-or-treater, watched her carefully, and then dove in.  We moved methodically down the street, and I was fairly sure that we would make it to about ten houses netting him enough candy for a few days.

Robbie picked up speed as we started to get through the street, running from house to house.  I actually tried to sneak past a few houses because it was getting close to 8:00 (I had originally figured that he would last maybe an hour).  Robbie was on to me, though.  Perhaps it was the conversation about how we knew which houses to go to.  When I tried to pass a house, Robbie grabbed my hand, said, “Mama, light on.  Tricker treat.  Halloween”, and took off toward the house.  Silly me.  I assumed that when his bucked was full and I was sticking candy in my pockets that we were good.

The last house, though, really threw Robbie for a loop.  She had a spider that fell from the porch ceiling and then climbed back up its web when she clapped.  Roberto did not like this.  In fact, it terrified him.  I watched as the sheer terror took over his face and saw the scream build in his throat.  He dropped his Elmo bucket to the ground and leapt off the porch and into my arms.  And, good mother that I am, I couldn’t stop laughing.

I’m not sure how we’re going to keep Robbie from ringing people’s doorbells when we walk down the street anymore.  I have a feeling he’s going to want “tricker treat” every day of the year.  Especially because he got into the tub with a sucker in one hand and half a KitKat in the other.