This is how it should be. A post that is full of self-explanatory photos!
Sun. Snow. Smiles. Beer. Friends.
No training was accomplished on this day.
Category: Kids
March Break Musings
It’s March Break in this part of the world. 2 weeks. 16 days, actually. I’m not entirely sure why the school board feels this is a good idea, but they do. Apparently, there’s an annual survey that goes out to parents asking us if we want this extended break. Interestingly, I’ve never 1) seen said survey and 2) met a parent who has ticked the “hell yeah I want my kids home for 2 weeks in the middle of winter while I scramble for childcare and overpriced camps!” box.
Conspiracy? I think not.
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I gave up wine and chocolate for Lent this year. Clearly, I’d forgotten that Lent coincides with the aforementioned 16 day break.
#schedulefail
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44.
That’s the numbers of days left till I dip my toe/jump in head first to my first triathlon in a hell of a long time.
Sidebar: if it’s been that long, can I still call myself a triathlete? Discuss.
I am a combination of excited, apprehensive, confident and terrified. It’s fun, really!
Training is going well, though not without its ups and downs. My shoulder continues to annoy the crap out of me most days. Somedays I feel like I am a little rocket ship, others I feel like a super sloth. Motivation drives me some days, other days it totally evades me (like when it’s raining and grey and oh look! squirrel!) I get distracted easily.
I’m back home after a few days at UnCamp with Lizzie (and Henry). We failed miserably in our attempts at Tweeting and Selfie-ing our progress. We have a lot to learn in that department of professional triathlete-dom. If you want to know what training camps should really be like, do yourself a favour and read her latest post on the topic.
Our own camp went well.
- I didn’t cry into my goggles.
- The coach on the pool deck said “Wow, that’s fast!” to me (let’s just gloss over the fact that she was referencing my speed compared the grandma in my lane. I’ll take it).
- I made silly nutrition choices (who needs calories when you have sunshine and air!)
- We rode into wind and up and down hills. It was fun to tour all the homes in West Vancouver that I could never afford.
- I remembered how much I like to ride outside.
- I chased Lizzie’s bum at running intervals.
- We earned that damn beer and burger.
I got that giddy feeling you get when you finish a hard workout and you can’t quite believe you did it. I missed that feeling. Welcome back, fitness. Been a while.
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Anyone have any must-sees/dos/stops between Vancouver and St-George, Utah?
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In kid news, Will turned 8. Rory lost teeth. Anja skied the Blackcomb Glacier. Average month, really.
QOTD
Scene:
It’s after school. We’re getting dressed to head out to collect Talky Talkerson from daycare. I’ve had a fairly long day of training, skiing (woe is me) and chores. I look, to say the least, disheleved. I’m wearing post-workout clothes, a puffy, my hair is… mussed (fancy way of saying swim/helmet head).
Will: “I look weird.”
Me: “No, you don’t. You look just fine. I, however, look ridiculous.”
Will: “No Mum, you just look like an average senior.”
(…)
I’m here to tell you there’s no comeback for that.
QOTD
The latest gems from the offspring include:
“Hey! Lasagna rhymes with Anja!”
Referring to a bendy straw from a juice box: “That could be a telescope for ants!”
“Coffee is like candy for grown ups”.
“Mama, wedgies are not fun”.
(5 points if you can guess who came up with that last one).
QOTD
“Mama, I’m so proud of you… for giving me Valentine’s chocolate.”
-Anja
Way to spin it, kiddo.
Saturday.
Let’s face it. When your 3 year old tells you she doesn’t want to go skiing because there are too many rocks, it’s time to move to plan B. I can’t really argue with her, it’s not as though we’ve had a stellar winter to date.
Saturdays agree with me lately. The kids are fairly cooperative in letting me sleep in (and by sleep in, I mean the clock doesn’t lead with a 6), cartoons are allowed and therefore coffee is consumed in peace, and it’s a day off from work and training. These days, I’ve even been good and stayed away from the stimulation/black hole of social media! (Pats self on back).
While we skied last weekend in balmy 12C, this Saturday was cold and sunny, so the little people wandered across the road to skate on their “rink”: a frozen puddle in the middle of a hay field. I felt so Canadian! Too bad I don’t own skates.
I suspect that tomorrow we’ll be back to regularly scheduled programming and be back on the hill. We just can’t seem to stay away. As it should be!
Stalling.
Almost every night, about 30 minutes after I naively believe everyone is asleep in this house, I hear footsteps wander down the hall, tip-toe down the stairs and slink into the living room.
Oh, hey Will. Shouldn’t you be asleep?
“I feel… weird”.
“I feel like… half my brain wants me to sleep but the other half of my brain doesn’t.”
“Why did someone invent school?”
“What do people use safes for?”
After I answer 1 or 2 or 11 questions, the stalling stutters to an end:
“Um… (long pause) But Mum… (long pause as he searches for another question)…”
“Good night Will. It’s late.”
“Ok fine. But why did someone invent a school just for boys and girls couldn’t go and I wish only girls had to go to school but I don’t understand why they had to shoot that girl just because she wanted to go to school and it’s pretty lucky she survived, don’t you think?”
Note to self: Research this question.
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He’ll then take the most circuitous route back to his bed possible, usually involving a water stop and some neck-craning back towards the living room to see what he could possibly be missing.
Does every 7 year old do this, or just mine?
QOTD: A day in the life of Anja.
She comes by her nickname, Talky Talkerson, quite honestly. From sunrise to bedtime, she talks. Talks and talks and talks. Conversations, questions or monologues, on and on she goes. It’s a combination of amusing, entertaining, exhausting, frustrating and endearing.
98% of the time lately, the days begin with her little voice yelling one of 2 things in her groggy, semi-wakeful state, from the comfort of her bed.
“Can I come dooo-oo-own?”
“I’m getting hungry for my bektest (breakfast)”
With our permission, she trundles downstairs, dragging her ratty blankie, and she’s off.
Some samples from Wednesday:
“Even strangers have feelings, you know”.
“Call me Alice. I can never go back to being Anja.”
“Mum, who am I again (me: “Alice”) “Oh yeah, Alice. Call me Alice.”
“I need to tell you a story about, um, me.”
“Can I tell you something very important? (…) I love (…) my blue curtains.”
“What are you thinking about me?”
Her parting words to me as I left on my holiday (that’s right… my holiday. More on that, later).
Me: “If you are good for Dad while I am away, I will bring you a new bathing suit.”
Anja (eyes wide as dinner plates): “What?! Really? For me? A new one? Ok! I want it to have boobies and underpants and black and white stripes and all the colours.”
I’m on the hunt for said item.
I don’t get it.
I’m the first to admit that I love running with my kids. Sure, the pace is different than what I am used to but running with my 7 year old on the trails is just really fun. I let him set the pace, we stop a lot and we chat about the most random things (usually: Lego). Both boys have each run a 5K. And by run, I mean run/walk/zigzag/play tag/stop for water and cookies, etc. They had fun (which is the primary goal) and got a ribbon at the finish line (secondary goal).
Lately, lots of headlines have been popping up about 5 year olds “setting world records” for half-marathons, 14 year olds running marathons or 6 year olds petting llamas and raising money for pro-life organizations (this one infuriated me).
Maybe I’m missing something here. Maybe these kids are just way more competitive than mine. But I have a really hard time believing that these kids do it on their own volition. 21k is a long way to go (and this leaves me wondering how much training is involved to get them to the start line). It’s a lot of pounding on little joints, bones and muscles. And let’s face it – it can be boring. Maybe these kids are more focused than mine and don’t mind the boredom. But I doubt it. I have sneaking suspicion that there’s a running version of a hard-core soccer mom or dad lurking in the background. I mean, do we really believe that a 6 year old understands what pro-life means?
For now, I think we’ll stick to playing in the forest and chasing each other through the trails.
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EDIT: Bravo, Runner’s World, bravo: http://www.runnersworld.com/fun/1-year-old-runs-marathon?page=single
In the trenches
I bow down to you, full-time stay at home moms. Seriously. I’m onto day 4 and I’m exhausted. Work was so… quiet.
Don’t get me wrong: I love the extra time I get to spend with my kids. But I have never met 3 people who verbalize their every feeling quite like my kids – and in particular, the smallest one who quite literally never. ever. stops.
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This happened, and it was awesome:
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Then the next morning, this happened:
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The I got strep throat and that totally sucked.
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Then this happened:
I guess that means it’s game time.
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