I realized something important at breakfast this morning. We had cinnamon rolls. You know, the Pillsbury kind? Where you put your own icing on? The best breakfast invention in the world? When I was growing up, it seemed like we always ran short on icing, which was the best part. However, with a baby in the house, I don’t put icing on his cinnamon rolls. That’s just entirely too messy, and, particularly in the morning, I don’t have time to stick him in the bathtub. So, the kid doesn’t get icing. You know what that means! Justin and I don’t run out of icing for our own cinnamon rolls.

My friend Jane and I went for a run tonight – more accurately, we went for an injury-inducing adventure. Jane and I started off running well enough until an 80-pound, pure-muscle, maniac of a dog came barreling towards us. Now, in all honesty, I know that the dog was probably coming to play with Barkley. However, there’s no telling how Barkley would react to this mad beast tearing down the road at him, especially if Barkley is on a leash and the other dog isn’t. Let’s also add to it that the dog had the biggest choke collar on that I have ever seen.

At the last minute, the dog veered off to the left, taking out Jane. Right at the knee. Broke her right out of her run. And where was the owner? Doing the fake “Oh-I-need-to-act-like-I’m-trying-to-catch-my-dog” run. She barely broke out of a walk, and her dog continued on his path of destruction, searching out the elderly and small children. The owner hardly apologized! Can you imagine? If Barkley had nearly taken out a jogger, I would have fallen all over myself trying to apologize. But, I’m also not from Massachusetts. I’m a Kentucky girl, and we like to at least try to make people feel better.

And now I must leave you to finish getting caught up on Jersey Shore with Justin. He hasn’t seen an episode all season, and he’s nearly fallen off the couch three times laughing. I can’t miss any more of Snooki’s one-liners.

I pulled the ultimate parental sneak attack tonight. Actually, it was a sneak out. I’m not proud to admit it. Scratch that. It was amazing. Some of my best parental and spousal work. But let me start at the beginning…

Justin and I agreed yesterday that I would clean the house if he did the laundry. I was supposed to clean the house last night but was too tired. So I planned to do it today between the 5K (best time yet – 38:34!) and a baby shower. Then I had the opportunity to go to Target with a girlfriend, which trumped cleaning house. I postponed cleaning to after the shower and before dinner, while Justin and Robbie were already at our friends’ house. But dinner was ready early. This brings us to 7:45 this evening.

I knew I needed to leave in order to get home and clean the house, but I didn’t want to be responsible for taking Robbie home. It would have required a bath, stories, and crying. This would not help me get the house cleaned. Robbie was sleeping in the guest bedroom, and out of Justin’s sight and mind. After all, football was on. So, I did what any good wife would do. I kissed my husband goodbye and told him I was leaving to go home and clean. And slipped out the door without asking if he minded bringing Robbie home.

Apparently, about five minutes after I left, Justin asked, “Is my son still here?” and nodded and went back to the game when he found out I had indeed left the sleeping child. It was a much better reaction than I expected. No irritation. Just acceptance that I needed some time to myself to get the house clean and enjoy the quiet. And you know what? I did clean the house. I cleaned the hell out of it. I dusted and mopped. I organized the new bins I bought for the bathroom. I cleaned the litter box and changed the loads of laundry over. I put away toys and sorted through junk mail. And I finished just as Justin and Robbie walked through the door. The first thing Justin said? “Wow! The house smells really clean.” Music to my ears and totally worth the brief moment of guilt I felt for leaving my child without telling my husband he was in charge.

Don’t judge! You know you would have done the same thing. Except you might not have actually cleaned. Trust me, I know. The couch looked really tempting… But now I know I can enjoy it tomorrow without being concerned about all the chores I put off for a third day.

I can’t guarantee that this is going to be a fabulously witty entry. I know how some of you rely on that from me… I am absolutely done. I made a deal with Justin earlier tonight that I would clean the house before I went to bed if he would do the laundry tomorrow. The only thing I have done is made a bigger mess. But, in my defense, I have excellent reason to be tired.

Justin and I participated in the Ollie Road Race in South Boston this morning. Justin signed up to do the five-mile run, and I signed up to do the two-mile walk. I opted for the shorter distance because I knew I could be successful at it. There’s nothing like getting partway into a run and discovering that you suck. Case in point: the Spartan Race. I didn’t want that again. Plus, I know I can knock out two miles pretty fast (pretty fast for me).

Now, from the start, this race wasn’t too well organized. We had to walk about a half mile from the T station to the starting line, which is where we would have assumed registration was. Nope. It was at the Bank of America Pavilion, another half mile down the road. This means we also had to walk another half mile back to the start after registering… So I got off to a pretty good start, staying caught up with the rest of the runners. When I hit the mile mark, I started wondering where the turn around point was. No one in a “Race Crew” shirt had any idea. Are you kidding me? No one happened to mention, “Oh, when someone asks, THIS is the turn-around”? And this was the SEVENTIETH YEAR this race has been run. I can’t believe this question has never come up before.

With no choice but to continue, I ran on to the two mile marker. Nope. No pretend finish line there. All of a sudden, there was a white van slowly driving by me. I looked over, and it was a very nice guy from the race offering me water. When I asked him about the turn-around, he looked surprised. Mhmm… It was over half a mile back the other way. So, I had two choices. I could keep going and do the full five miles, which is probably what I should have done. Instead, I turned around and headed back. I knew I had a half mile before I caught up with the course on the way back to the finish line, so I walked most of that. But, once I caught up with the other runners, I kicked it back into gear. And let me just tell you that I ran 3.75 miles in 45 minutes! I was so proud of myself!

Now, in retrospect, I should have just kept going and done the whole race. I really wussed out on this one. Especially because it turns out that the races was only 4.58 miles, and not the full five. But, who cares? I ran further than I have ever run in my life, and I did it faster than I have ever done. This gives me hope for tomorrow’s 5K. I’m aiming to do it in under 40 minutes, and I really think I can. Who would have guessed?

So, now that you can see why I am so done, I am going to go to bed. After all, this mess will still be here in the morning. As fabulous of a husband as Justin is, I can trust that the mess will still be here tomorrow.

I’d like to say there was a time in my life when I got really excited about going out on a Friday night. Like in college. But in college I worked every Friday night because those were the nights you could make the most waiting tables. And after college? I was too tired to go out. Between working full time and being in grad school and driving back and forth to Georgia to see Justin, there was very little energy left for Friday nights. And now? Forget about it. I’m usually game for going out to dinner in the middle of the week to break things up, but I’m done by Friday. All I want to do is curl up with a good book and go to sleep.

With no dinner plans tonight, Justin and I were unsure of how to proceed, so I called our good friends Micah and Allie. Allie and I made the colossal mistake of attempting to involve the men in our decision-making, which just made it more difficult. And after a series of calls back and forth to Justin and Allie, I grew tired of mediating and made an executive decision. Justin wanted Christopher’s, which serves some pretty fabulous burgers. Being the mother of a one-year-old, I decided that hanging out with Robbie in a crowded restaurant, waiting at least 45 minutes for a table was not on my list of fun things to do. In that moment, I knew I had to take one for the team. I would get dinner together (this involved a trip to the store), feed and bathe Robbie, and pick up the house. I know… How does she do it?

Well, having a husband come home and bathe Robbie helps. Until you have to go in to make the child stop screaming because he does not like the way his father repeatedly dumps water over his head to rinse off the shampoo. But, really, Justin was invaluable tonight… He did cook the burgers after I made them (I mixed bleu cheese in with the meat, which I thought was pretty fabulous and inspired).

You know what? It was the perfect thing to do. After dinner, we sat around the dining room table for an hour or so. Talking like we haven’t had time to do in months. And laughing. I’d honestly forgotten how hilarious we all are (OK, how funny the rest of them are!). And when we decided it was getting cold with all the windows open, we did what any normal people would have done. We went outside and built a fire and sat, staring at it, for the next hour.

In case you’re keeping track, we really did nothing tonight. And my kitchen is still a wreck (I keep waiting on Justin to clean it for me, but I doubt that will happen this late in the game). But it was the perfect night of nothing. Sometimes, at the end of a long week (even though it was really a great week), there is nothing better than the solace of your house and good friends. Thank goodness for both!

Do you ever look at your child and wonder where in the world he learned to do that? Welcome to my afternoon. Every time Robbie and I hang out, I feel like I’m with a bigger, more grown-up person. And I’m learning to relish how fun he is getting to be.

This afternoon, Roberto and I went to the grocery store. I’ve been going while he was asleep, and Robbie’s favorite cashier and bagger had been asking about him. Usually, Robbie sits in the cart when we go, but I only had a few things to pick up. So we did what any sane mother of a one-year-old would do. We walked around the grocery store. Me with my purse and Robbie with his backpack. The juxtaposition of the backpack cracked me up: he’s too little to wear it, but he looked like he was ready to walk into kindergarten. I think he knew he was wearing it and looking cute, too; he had a little extra swagger. Since we were walking, I needed Robbie to help carry the groceries. I gave him the ibuprofen, and he stood in the middle of the aisle, shaking it and laughing. And then he dropped to his knees and started a mad dash around the grocery. Fortunately, I nabbed him before some unsuspecting shopper wound up with a toddler under her cart.

When we got home, it was time for a snack. I pulled out some pretzels and humus. Robbie, pretzel in hand, waited for me to open the humus (how does he remember what this stuff is?). He then very delicately put his pretzel into the tub and dug around for some humus, which he licked off his pretzel. And then put the same pretzel back in the humus five or six more times. If you come to my house, make sure to ask for fresh humus… At any rate, I went to the kitchen to make some ravioli for Robbie’s dinner. I was gone for no more than 45 seconds. When I came back? There was a big hand print in my humus. And my coffee table was being wiped with a very humus-y toddler hand. He was very, very thorough and quite pleased with himself. I’m just thankful it wasn’t my new couch. Or the dog. That actually would have been worse than the couch. He’s much more difficult to clean.

But the real “Where did he learn to do that?” came later in the night. It was almost time for bed, and the living room was a mess. All of a sudden, I looked up to see Robbie throwing his toys back into his Pack ‘n Play! Now, sometimes when I pick up, I encourage Robbie to help me. He never does. But tonight he did it without any prompting! And then, when he ran out of toys next to the Pack ‘n Play, he walked around the room to get other things to put away in there (most of them being his, a few being pieces of mail that he wanted to claim – unfortunately none of them were bills that he wanted to pay).

You ever go to the store to buy a pair of shoes to match a specific outfit? I usually don’t. I purposely buy outfits that coordinate with the one pair of black shoes, one pair of brown shoes, or one pair of running shoes in my closet. I know. So utterly un-feminine of me. Because of this, I surprised myself when I bought a navy Liz Claiborne skirt with white polka dots for $6.00 at a consignment store while I was home. It’s probably because I was so excited that the skirt fit and was in what I have currently deemed an acceptable, regular person size. But back to the shoes…

Needless to say, wearing skirts is a problem with my limited shoe resources. Those loafers just don’t look cute with an above-the-knee skirt. In fact, they’re barely passable when covered up with long pants. This posed a problem for my new navy skirt, and I set out for Target yesterday to find the right pair of navy shoes. I was determined to wear this skirt today, and wear it I did. Unfortunately, my shoes wore me.

I realized when I was running into school this morning (the commute took me just over an hour, and I was super late). I could feel the skin on my ankles protesting, but I didn’t have time to pay attention. By the time I had walked the nine miles to my classroom (OK, maybe it’s only a quarter of a mile), my feet were in a full-blown fight with the rest of my body. I sit here typing with three exposed blisters, areas rubbed raw, and throbbing feet. And the shoes? They’re in the back seat of my car. I went barefoot the rest of the day after work.

I’m sure you are asking yourself why in the world I bought shoes that were too small. Obviously because I am not as smart as most people. Yes, I did try on the shoes. And they seemed to fit well. However, I did not walk around in them nearly enough. And I was late getting Robbie from daycare. And I am still in denial that my feet are half a size larger than they were before Robbie was born.

It wouldn’t be so bad if this was the first time I had been forced to learn this lesson. Unfortunately, my sister kindly picked up a pair of shoes for me last fall for Robbie’s Christening. I told her my old shoe size and suffered through wearing the shoes. I still try them on every now and then, hoping that they may fit. They don’t. Those shoes? Currently in the corner of my bedroom, mocking me. And my big post-natal feet.

When I went to pick up Robbie from daycare today, I didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary. However… When Zhining came to the door, she threw it open, looked at me, forcefully pointed to Robbie who was sitting on the floor, and proclaimed him, “LAZY! Still no walk.” And Robbie just grinned and crawled over to me.

Zhining seems to be finished with Robbie’s crawling stage and is ready for him to start walking and studying for his ACT. I’m not entirely sure that she believes he is walking some at home. Actually, I’m not sure Justin believes it because he hasn’t seen it yet either… But, back to daycare.

It turns out that Robbie is worse than just plain lazy. Yup. He bit Zhining. Hard. While she had parents visiting because they were considering bringing their child to the daycare. Fabulous. But, rest assured, Zhining has taught him other skills to offset the biting. For instance, he knows “Wipe your mouth” in Chinese and does it. He also knows, “Blow your nose.” Apparently he confused “Give me the Kleenex” for “Shove the entire Kleenex in your mouth”, but I can see how he might make that mistake. I also learned today that Zhining is teaching Robbie manners, something I have obviously neglected to do, seeing as how my child is a biter and a hair puller… Every time she gives him something, she says, “Say ‘thank you'” in Chinese. Robbie has begun to say the word, which is always a good sign. Is it terrible that I wasn’t even thinking about making him say “Thank you”?

This is why the world needs daycare, you know. It’s a method of combatting all the pertinent skills that I am neglecting to teach my child. Like please and thank you. Waiting in line. Sharing crayons. Gathering immunity to community germs. You know, the usual. And so, for the sake of the well being of the rest of the world, Robbie will continue going to daycare while I go back to work. You’re so very welcome.

Or ends. This is it. The last “real” hour of summer. School starts tomorrow, and I’m not sure I’m anywhere near ready. Sure, I’ve kind of been back at work for the past two weeks, but there’s really no turning back at this point. And I feel OK about it. The house is clean, which is a great way to start off the school year. Particularly if I didn’t have to actually clean it myself. Robbie’s lunch is packed. Mine is semi-packed. I know what I’m wearing tomorrow, even if it isn’t ironed yet. And I’ve taken the Tylenol PM I know I’ll need to actually get any sleep tonight.

The start of the school year for me also means the start of the semester for Justin. He’s back in class tomorrow night, and I’m actually looking forward to it. When Robbie goes to bed at 6:30 tomorrow night, I’ll have three blissful hours all to myself. In a house that doesn’t need to be cleaned. I love having Justin home, but the idea of peace and quiet with no one making a mess or needing dinner is amazing.

For some reason, I’ve been really emotional about the end of my first full summer with Robbie. Tonight it occurred to me why. It marks the end of relaxation. I know this seems obvious because school will be in full swing again. But, it’s also true for Justin. The fall is his busy travel season. He’ll be gone three of the five weekends in October. Throw in class Tuesday and Thursday nights. Oh, and the occasional Saturday class (I think there are four this semester). Add it all up, and I don’t know when I’ll really get to see Justin again. It’s just a sign of how fast life goes and how unlikely it is that time will slow down again until next June.

I feel even more confused because I love fall; it’s my favorite season. Football. Changing leaves. Pumpkins. Mums. My family’s annual visit to Plum Island. My birthday and our anniversary. What’s not to love? Except for the change in pace, it’s absolutely perfect. And Robbie will be able to enjoy it a little more this year. He already likes to crunch leaves beneath his bare feet (he’s a Kentucky boy at heart!). Maybe, just maybe, he can learn to like the sound of them crunching under his shoes when it gets a little colder.

Don’t panic! This isn’t an Amber Alert. Robbie’s isn’t actually missing!

I really have not seen Robbie much for the past thirty hours. We’ve had friends in from out of town all weekend, and Robbie has spent most of the time with one of his favorite babysitters. Justin and I have had dinner out two nights and a brunch today. We went to the Sox game today and didn’t have a child squirming in our laps. Nor did we have to worry about him in the crowded T, where he likes to go through other people’s bags… It was nice to sit in a restaurant and not have to feed anyone else. It was amazing to not change a diaper every few hours or deal with meltdowns. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself when I got through an entire conversation. In fact, I’ve grown accustomed to having Robbie as an excuse to get out of a dead end conversation.

But you know what? I missed him. I really did. I didn’t realize it until just a few minutes ago – I know, great mom, right? I went upstairs to check on him and could smell him from the hall. Never a good sign. But, it was a nice excuse to get him up to cuddle. He seemed amenable to coming downstairs and visiting and has spent the time playing Scattegories with us. He’s currently entertaining himself by throwing pens through Justin’s legs and trying to color Grover.

These are moments that I take for granted when I see him all day every day. There’s nothing quite like watching your kid play after you haven’t seen him all day. I know I go through that every day when I send him to daycare, but it’s different when you have to wake him up to play with you. And I promise. His diaper really was dirty. I was being a responsible parent by getting him up and changing him. There was no selfish motivation. None at all. Seriously.

Robbie has been flirting with walking for at least a third of his life. At the beginning of June, Zhining assured me, “Qi Qi will walk. One month. Yes, I think one month.” In early July, Zhining amended, “I think two weeks. He will be ready in two weeks.” Well, it’s three months later… Usually she’s right on about these things, but not walking.

Until Friday. On Friday, Zhining was adamant that Robert would walk next week. And, even though today is not “next week”, Robbie did start walking. I was on the phone with my mother-in-law when it hit me that Robbie was walking. I know, I know. It shouldn’t have had to “hit” me. I should have been so astonished that I dropped the phone when he did it. But, I’m one of those moms who apparently doesn’t notice her child’s milestones fast enough. Robbie was a good three steps in when I realized that he was walking on his own.

He went back and forth across the room (well, from the chair to the bed, which is a good five feet) four times before it occurred to me to take a video of this moment for posterity. It isn’t the best video, but I do have proof of Robert walking around this afternoon. Even if it was to take the bribe of an iPod.

Robbie’s continuing to struggle a little with whether he wants to walk or not. When we got home from running some errands this afternoon (I finally got the perfect new linens!), Robbie held my finger to walk to the house. When we got there, he decided he wanted to turn around and go the other way. He tried to let go a few times, but it’s hard to be so confident when you’re facing a concrete sidewalk and no soft chair to run into if you fall. So, I can understand his hesitation to walk.

I’m hoping Robbie will do more of this tomorrow, particularly because we have a babysitter and I think it would be important for her to earn her pay by running after Roberto to make sure he’s exhausted by the time I get home. Now, I know I should be careful what I wish for. But I also think I’ve had a good run, so to speak. Robbie wasn’t a full-time crawler until well into his ninth month. And I’ve made it over thirteen months without a walker. So, even though I sometimes (often) long for the baby who stayed where I put him, I think it’s time to make the leap to walker. This week. This week Qi Qi will walk. Yes, I think this is the week.