Three Things Thursday

I'm thinking of renaming my blog to "Three Things Thursday" because that's apparently the only posts I write anymore. My life has turned into one giant bullet-pointed list. Alas. Here are this week's three things:

Thing one: 5K update

Remember that 5K I ambitiously signed up for and barely trained for? Yep. It happened. I definitely made my goal of running the whole time and almost made my toes-crossed goal of running it in under 30 minutes--just seconds off. And, I have to admit (I can't believe I'm saying this)...I sort of loved it. I got that runner's high everyone talks about and was saying things like, "That wasn't so bad," and "I'd totally do that again." Want to guess how many times I've run since then? Once. My theory is that I run more when I've paid money and have to train for something rather than just running on my own. So, next time (and there will be a next time, especially if I stay friends with my runner-buddy Christen), I think I should sign up for a 10K or something that requires training so I'll actually get my butt in gear. Don't worry--I'm not getting all marathon-girl on you. Keep in mind I'm the one who's run once in the last three weeks.

Thing two: Firsts for Moo

Haircut: Thanks to the magical powers of youtube, I've been cutting Moo's hair at home since he was nine months old, and it usually looked passable. However, after a few cuts that left something to be desired and the realization that professionals are faster and better at it than me, the boy got his first real haircut. Phil took him with the promise of a consolation cupcake afterwards. To be fair, we didn't do the best job preparing him for what it would be like, so he was a teensy bit traumatized, but five minutes later his hair was cut and he was salivating over the promised overpriced cupcake, so I'm okay with a few tears. By the time he got home, he was all smiles about it!

Swimming lessons: My son has that glorious combination of loving water and knowing no fear, so we put him in swimming lessons for part of the summer. He loves it!

Dentist: This was the most difficult "first" because he didn't want to lie down in the chair. I guess since we brush his teeth while he's standing up, the feeling of lying down with something in his mouth sounded gaggy or something. I don't know. But I do know that we have a fabulous pediatric dentist, that he loved when the spin brush "tickled his teeth," and that the bouncy ball and itty bitty dinosaur he got as "prizes" (a.k.a. we will lose them in .02 seconds) made up for any discomfort.

Thing three: Post-baby bathing suit
Sorry, guys. I like to keep it real on here, but I'm not posting pictures of myself in a bathing suit. Just not gonna happen. As I tried on past bathing suits, I realized a few things:

1. I need to quit buying cheap bathing suits; they stretch out after one season. 
2. I'm okay with it, but my body isn't what it used to be; I now need ruching, patterns, and full coverage, y'all. Totally get why my mom wore the suits she did when I was growing up. Judgy days over.
3. And by full coverage, I mean on top too; I forget that nursing boobs just can't fit into pre-baby tops. 

So I went on a long online hunt for The Perfect Post-baby Bathing Suit and FOUND ONE. It took forever, but I ordered it from Macy's and am really, really happy with it. I had to pay more than I wanted to, but since I'm trying to learn from #1 above, I'm seeing it as an investment. P.S. It's on sale for 15% off right now. You're welcome. 

Mother's Day: Being Hers

I remember her hands, speckled with freckles and age spots, soft but strong, dry in places from all the washing and working, nails that angled up just so, painted a sensible pink. And I remember sitting next to her at her least favorite place on earth: the beach.

We sat where the water laps the shore, wearing matching floral Lands End bathing suits, and even though I was old enough for matching bathing suits to deserve a good eye roll, I liked being hers, so I tolerated it. I'd taken a break from boogie boarding with my dad and three brothers and she was making the best of having to be hot and sticky and "sandy in places I didn't even know I had."

She grew up in Florida, so she'd done the beach. A lot. It didn't feel like vacation to her as much as a drag back into an earlier version of "normal." Nothing to see here; move along. But she went with us every year just the same, which I now realize was about the most loving thing she could do. And she put on a bathing suit, which she hates, and she sat in the heat, which she hates, and she tolerated it all. For us. And I knew that.

We Wharton Women had to stick together, so I walked over and sat by her, and I'm sure we talked some and I soaked it in because alone time with my mom in a family of six was pretty hard to come by, but what I really remember was a quiet moment when I studied her hands while she looked at the ocean. I'd seen them for a decade but had never really taken them in, and the veins and scars and spots captured me. They're lovely, I thought as I wondered what my hands would look like when I was a mother.

~

The other week my son poked my hand with his pudgy finger and said, "Beeeeep!" because, of course, one of my sun spots was a button. I smiled--not just amused by his comment, but because my hands, I realized, are my mother's--freckled and worked and strong and storied. And while my nails are shorter than hers and never painted, I still have the hands I've wanted since I was ten years old.  Because I still like being hers, and she's so very, very lovely.

*Apparently we NEVER take pictures together because the one above is the best of three I found of us over the past nine years. You know it's bad when the "best" is a picture of yourself going home front the hospital 30 lbs. over your normal weight. Gonna work on getting the two of us captured a little more often (and flatteringly). 

Three Things Thursday: funny Moo edition

Funny Moo thing one:

Moo's first full-length movie, which he watched in 20 minute increments over several days, was the movie Cars. And he's obsessed. Every scenario he creates with his cars involves Lightning McQueen and Mater, and he goes around saying "Ka-chow!" So, the other week Noey had to get her six month shots, and on the way home Moo informed me that watching the Cars movie would make her feel better. Uh huh. I see what you did there, buddy.


Funny Moo thing two:
Speaking of cars, Moo and I had a lengthy conversation (like 10 minutes) the other week about how it is that a person gets to drive a car. He asked me if he could drive the steering wheel somewhere, so I explained that he had to have a driver's license and be 16, and I even showed him my driver's license, after which he said, "My have it?" Nope. No shortcuts to that little plastic piece of freedom. Let the record show, though, that he was ready to drive a car by himself at age two.

Funny Moo thing three:
During the tornado warning this past week, we went to our place of safety in our basement. Phil did an amazing job of setting up a cot surrounded by mattresses and getting all our emergency supplies together. When we had to wake up the kids, we told Moo that we were going on a Family Camping Adventure in the basement. You would have thought he was at Disney World. All he wanted to do the next day was play on the "bed in the basement" and talk about camping. Clearly, he wasn't traumatized by the storms, and I'm so grateful for that sweet innocence; not everyone was afforded that this week. (Excuse the picture quality; it was dark and I had to use a flash)

Funny Moo thing bonus:
There comes a day in every little boy's life when he wants his toenails painted. Moo saw my toenails painted and asked if he could have his painted, so I agreed. It's not permanent, so what's the harm? We started with red because I didn't have any manly colors, but quickly found some blue so Phil's manhood wouldn't be too bruised. We were getting family pictures later in the week, so I took off the nail polish and Moo lost it, y'all. It was like he was grieving. He kept looking down at his toes and crying all over again with the realization that the blue polish was gone. It was pretty hilarious. The only way I got him to stop crying was to let him watch Cars and remind him that we could paint them again after the pictures. So, if you see my son with blue toes all summer
, you now know why. Some battles just aren't worth fighting.

And so Noodle doesn't feel left out, here's a little snapshot of that chunky chica: