I'm an evil, evil person. Despite having a husband who is an incredible, amazing father to our three children, I totally and completely bombed on Father's Day. To make things even worse he was sweet and mature about it and when I apologized that we hadn't done anything very special, other than give him a gift and hastily made cards from the boys, he only said, "that's okay- I wasn't expecting much!" This because we're away from home (at my Mom's for the week) and I have a stress fracture in my foot, which makes me extremely grumpy and self-absorbed. Not that that is any excuse! I realized this while reading the posts on several friends' blogs today about all the wonderful, thoughtful things they had done for their fathers and husbands. I'm horrible!! So, to make it up, we will have a father's day redo this Sunday when we get home, and it will include pie, I promise.
I was also going to make a list of Eric's finest moments as a father, to include the time when little Eric was a newborn and he rushed home between classes just to hold him for a few minutes, or the time he dove the entire lenth of the pool to rescue Eric from drowning, or just today, when I watched from the ocean as he bounced Marley to sleep in his arms and then made her a tent out of towels for her nap. But as I started to write I realized that his finest moments as a father are probably ones I will never know about: quiet conversations with the boys as they fall asleep in their sleeping bags on father-son campouts; nights singing Marley back to sleep in her crib; fellowships and awards forgone so that he could come home and eat dinner with our family instead. I know that he makes sacrifices for me and our children every day and I am so grateful for that. When Marley grows up I want her to marry a man JUST LIKE HER DADDY. I guess that's the best compliment I could give him, and I really do mean it. I love you sweetheart!!
19.6.09
12.6.09
Wednesday nights at the track...
We recently discovered the Carolina Godiva track club which holds informal, family-friendly track meets at the UNC track each week. There are races for the kids and for all levels of runners. To my dismay, I found that no chocolate was involved:(. But it was lots of fun anyway, so that's where we've been spending our Wednesday nights this summer.
The first race of the night is the mile. The first week we went Eric won an easy victory in the fast heat with a time of 4:45. It turned out that the big guns just weren't there that night and he was put back in his place in subsequent weeks. Like this last week- check out this Kenyan dude!
And this just cracks me up: it's Eric in a nutshell. See that look on his face? He just HAD to try and beat the Kenyan, even if it killed him, and it nearly did...
The boys, of course, want to be out there just like their Dad...
Little Eric did the mile last week in 9:01 and the 1500 this week in 8:10. Barefoot, of course. Briggie did half of the mile and then decided to take a little rest that conveniently lasted until the race was over:).
Marley? She did the clothes on thing for a while...
but that got old...
I even got in on the action this week and ran the 1500 M, coming in dead last in my heat, which is always fun:). I gave the camera to Brigham at one point and this is what I found when I uploaded the pictures:
That last one is my favorite- if you enlarge it you can see that the woman is clearly aware of her picture being taken by some random child but she's trying not to be too obviously unnerved. Oh Briggie:). He may not be destined for the Olympics, but I think he has potential as a photographer...
The first race of the night is the mile. The first week we went Eric won an easy victory in the fast heat with a time of 4:45. It turned out that the big guns just weren't there that night and he was put back in his place in subsequent weeks. Like this last week- check out this Kenyan dude!
And this just cracks me up: it's Eric in a nutshell. See that look on his face? He just HAD to try and beat the Kenyan, even if it killed him, and it nearly did...
The boys, of course, want to be out there just like their Dad...
Little Eric did the mile last week in 9:01 and the 1500 this week in 8:10. Barefoot, of course. Briggie did half of the mile and then decided to take a little rest that conveniently lasted until the race was over:).
Marley? She did the clothes on thing for a while...
but that got old...
I even got in on the action this week and ran the 1500 M, coming in dead last in my heat, which is always fun:). I gave the camera to Brigham at one point and this is what I found when I uploaded the pictures:
That last one is my favorite- if you enlarge it you can see that the woman is clearly aware of her picture being taken by some random child but she's trying not to be too obviously unnerved. Oh Briggie:). He may not be destined for the Olympics, but I think he has potential as a photographer...
7.6.09
Eric and Kate Plus Eight
Friday was the boys' last day of school, which is always sad for me- I don't like transitions. Brigham and Eric, for their part, didn't seem sad at all, just proud of all they had done in Kindergarten and first grade and excited for summer to begin. Part of that may have been due to the fact that we brought home a little souveneir from Eric's class: eight baby chicks. We're giving the backyard chickens thing a try- hopefully it will be fun and not too much work. If not, as Eric (big) says, we can always eat them.
Today after church we were looking over Brigham's report card and noticed something strange. They're graded on a scale from 1 to 4, 1 being bad and 4 being excellent. All year long, in almost every subject, Brigham has 3's:
Knows the front and back of the book- 3
Knows to read top to bottom- 3
Speaks in complete sentences- 3
Recognizes own name in print- 3
It was at this point that Eric and I started laughing. Knows the front and back of a book!? Recognizes his own name!? Maybe I'm one of those ultra-competitive moms with an inflated vision of her child, but I'm pretty sure that Brigham recognizes his own name perfectly, and can figure out which side is the front of a book- throw him a 4 or two!
So we're looking it over with him, trying to make it sound all great that he's a completely mediocre student, when he notices one 4 on the page and points to it saying, "Read that one Daddy!"
Days absent- 4
He did get an O for outstanding on Responds appropriately to adults. What does that even mean?
Here are the boys with their teachers. We were SO lucky to have wonderful teachers whom we loved, even if they did think our kids were mediocre...
And here are the octuplets....
Tiger assistant (he hangs out with Tiger a lot)
Sunshine
Rose
Sprinkles
Sunset
Tiger
Chickmonk
Duke
12.5.09
11.5.09
Mother's Day
I was lucky enough to get to spend Mother's Day with my mom...
Lucky for me, she lives at the beach. We spent a wonderful weekend playing bocce with Gran and Da...
eating sand...
looking adorable...
giving smoldering looks to passing dogs...
venturing into the still cold ocean...
building sandcastles...
going to church in downtown Charleston...
and talking to moms and grandmothers on the phone...
I love this picture because it captures my mom perfectly- smiling on the beach with her sunglasses and visor on, the wind blowing her hair and the sun shining down on her:)
Here's a poem my mom sent me that I love:
The Lanyard - Billy Collins
The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.
No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.
I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.
She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light
and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.
Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth
that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.
It was the best Mother's Day I could have asked for- to be with my beautiful children and my beautiful mom in a beautiful place. Speaking of which, our too-short visit inspired me to begin planning a great escape sometime in late September- a week at the beach at my mom's with NO KIDS!!!
Lucky for me, she lives at the beach. We spent a wonderful weekend playing bocce with Gran and Da...
eating sand...
looking adorable...
giving smoldering looks to passing dogs...
venturing into the still cold ocean...
building sandcastles...
going to church in downtown Charleston...
and talking to moms and grandmothers on the phone...
I love this picture because it captures my mom perfectly- smiling on the beach with her sunglasses and visor on, the wind blowing her hair and the sun shining down on her:)
Here's a poem my mom sent me that I love:
The Lanyard - Billy Collins
The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.
No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.
I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.
She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light
and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.
Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth
that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.
It was the best Mother's Day I could have asked for- to be with my beautiful children and my beautiful mom in a beautiful place. Speaking of which, our too-short visit inspired me to begin planning a great escape sometime in late September- a week at the beach at my mom's with NO KIDS!!!
3.5.09
26.2
Last Saturday Eric ran the North Carolina marathon. If you look closely at this picture, you might notice something missing...
That was him coming down the home strech in all his barefooted splendor. This:
is what always happens when I try to take a close-up action shot. I zoom in too far and can't find my subject and end up cutting off their head or missing them completely. And in my defense, he was running almost a 6 min. pace right then, so he was kind of hard to follow!
Here are the adoring fans- Eric, Brigham, Harry and Eli (who were there cheering on their dad, our friend Paul, who also ran the race). Eric had made the ten o'clock news the night before and while we were waiting for him to come across the line, people kept seeing the boys' sign and saying to them, "that guy is your dad? Wow!"
His feet the night after the race- not so bad huh?:
He came in in 12th place overall with a time of 3:11:19, which was just 20 seconds shy of his goal of qualifying for the Boston marathon. He and Paul even got in the local paper the next day. I had to beat off all the other reporters, but here's my interview with my speedy husband:
What did you think when you first heard about barefoot running?
I looked at my (barefoot) buddy and laughed. Then I took my shoes off
and loved it.
What made you want to try it?
I really didn't take any convincing...something about it just seemed
right from the beginning. I usually don't shy away from ideas that are
unconventional, especially if their antithesis is a product of our
industrialized-massproduced-synthetic-everythingyoueatcomeswrappedinaplastic
bag culture. I'm also a severe tightwad...it doesn't get much cheaper
than running barefoot for physical fitness. I suppose the shorts are
the next thing to go.
What's the hardest part of running barefoot?
Starting. There was a tough transition time for me where running for
more than three miles at less than a 7:00 minute/mile pace caused
blistering. It took several months for me to realize that this was
primarily an error in my running form: having heard that I should
strike with the balls of my feet, I discovered that I was emphasizing
the ball too much. As soon as I shifted my foot strike to the
mid-sole, everything cleared up and I could run longer distances at
faster paces.
What do you love most about it?
The feel of the road under my feet and the lightness of my legs. It
sounds weird, but your feet become MORE sensitive as you run barefoot.
Most people find this counter-intuitive, since barefooters also
develop thicker skin. However, the sensitivity is a good thing: you
begin to appreciate the different textures of the surfaces that you
run - I think it's probably akin to a blind person who develops a high
sensitivity on their figure tips after learning to read braille. You
also develop better foot sense, which promotes safety when running -
without a barrier between your foot and the road, you can more quickly
asses the quality of the surface that you're running on and how it
might affect your joints. The other part that I love is the
weighlessness; I've worn shoes twice while running in the 1.5 years
that I've been barefooting, and both times they made my legs feel
constrained and heavy. In one instance, my mile time actually worsened
when I was using shoes.
What is the craziest/funniest thing someone has said to you while you were
running barefoot?
I can't remember all of the goofy things that people have said, but
the funniest thing I heard during the marathon this past weekend was
that I had run so fast that I left my shoes behind. It created a good
mental picture that propelled me forward.
Way to go sweetheart! We are SO PROUD of you!! Do me a favor and keep your shorts on though!
That was him coming down the home strech in all his barefooted splendor. This:
is what always happens when I try to take a close-up action shot. I zoom in too far and can't find my subject and end up cutting off their head or missing them completely. And in my defense, he was running almost a 6 min. pace right then, so he was kind of hard to follow!
Here are the adoring fans- Eric, Brigham, Harry and Eli (who were there cheering on their dad, our friend Paul, who also ran the race). Eric had made the ten o'clock news the night before and while we were waiting for him to come across the line, people kept seeing the boys' sign and saying to them, "that guy is your dad? Wow!"
His feet the night after the race- not so bad huh?:
He came in in 12th place overall with a time of 3:11:19, which was just 20 seconds shy of his goal of qualifying for the Boston marathon. He and Paul even got in the local paper the next day. I had to beat off all the other reporters, but here's my interview with my speedy husband:
What did you think when you first heard about barefoot running?
I looked at my (barefoot) buddy and laughed. Then I took my shoes off
and loved it.
What made you want to try it?
I really didn't take any convincing...something about it just seemed
right from the beginning. I usually don't shy away from ideas that are
unconventional, especially if their antithesis is a product of our
industrialized-massproduced-synthetic-everythingyoueatcomeswrappedinaplastic
bag culture. I'm also a severe tightwad...it doesn't get much cheaper
than running barefoot for physical fitness. I suppose the shorts are
the next thing to go.
What's the hardest part of running barefoot?
Starting. There was a tough transition time for me where running for
more than three miles at less than a 7:00 minute/mile pace caused
blistering. It took several months for me to realize that this was
primarily an error in my running form: having heard that I should
strike with the balls of my feet, I discovered that I was emphasizing
the ball too much. As soon as I shifted my foot strike to the
mid-sole, everything cleared up and I could run longer distances at
faster paces.
What do you love most about it?
The feel of the road under my feet and the lightness of my legs. It
sounds weird, but your feet become MORE sensitive as you run barefoot.
Most people find this counter-intuitive, since barefooters also
develop thicker skin. However, the sensitivity is a good thing: you
begin to appreciate the different textures of the surfaces that you
run - I think it's probably akin to a blind person who develops a high
sensitivity on their figure tips after learning to read braille. You
also develop better foot sense, which promotes safety when running -
without a barrier between your foot and the road, you can more quickly
asses the quality of the surface that you're running on and how it
might affect your joints. The other part that I love is the
weighlessness; I've worn shoes twice while running in the 1.5 years
that I've been barefooting, and both times they made my legs feel
constrained and heavy. In one instance, my mile time actually worsened
when I was using shoes.
What is the craziest/funniest thing someone has said to you while you were
running barefoot?
I can't remember all of the goofy things that people have said, but
the funniest thing I heard during the marathon this past weekend was
that I had run so fast that I left my shoes behind. It created a good
mental picture that propelled me forward.
Way to go sweetheart! We are SO PROUD of you!! Do me a favor and keep your shorts on though!
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