Through the Years

My daughters’ birthdays are ten days apart in June. We typically celebrate their birthdays with the family on the same day. Today is that day. We will be heading to Grammy and Papas for an afternoon of swimming and pizza. It is supposed to be in the high 80s in Pittsburgh at party-time, and a pool party is the perfect way to celebrate the day God blessed us with two perfect little girls. 

Before we get to the party, I need to come to terms with the fact that my little girls are getting bigger. Right now all three children are sitting on the couch watching “Jungle Junction” on the iPad. It wasn’t that long ago that Shan told me she was pregnant with our first. At least it doesn’t seem like it was that long ago. I clearly remember that conversation we had eight years ago. I remember the major milestones for all three of her pregnancies, and yet, there are days that I cannot remember what I had for lunch. Crazy. 

I cherish those memories. Those moments are what have helped to define who I am. Over the last eight years, I have cut three umbilical cords (the first one wasn’t pretty – ruined my shirt), gotten up in the middle of the night countless times to sooth a child, changed innumerable diapers, fallen asleep with babies on my chest, stepped on toys and limped around in pain, cleaned booboos, brushed knots out of hair, caught puke in my hands, and performed numerous other acts of parenthood both expected and unexpected. 

Sometimes I wonder if parents have birthday parties to celebrate the birth of their children or to celebrate surviving another year of parenting. Of course, the latter is not why my wife and I are throwing a party, I ah, am, ah, talking about other parents. Yeah that’s it. 

Through the course of writing this post, I have made breakfast for the oldest, helped the middle one get dressed, helped the youngest on the potty and dressed him, and you guessed it, other various parental duties. Doing all of that has helped me to realize that I probably will never fully come to terms with my babies getting older. That’s okay with me. I will continue to look forward to the wonderful experiences awaiting my children and fondly remember everything that has happened to us so far.

Bad Blogger

It is hard to believe that it has been over a year since my last post. Shameful! I am back now - not really sure if that is a threat or a promise. What have I being doing over the last 15ish months you might ask? A lot of running, and obviously, not a lot of writing.


I started running last spring and haven't really looked back. It has become more than a passion for me; it has become a life-style. A day doesn't go by where I don't think about running, and I am glad for that. But, I need to find some balance. I need to start writing again. That's why I am launching a second blog devoted to running. (Yes, I realize that I haven't done very well with this blog as of late. Relax. Everything will be fine. There is room in my life for two blogs - I think.) 


I haven't come up with the official name of the new blog yet. I am kicking around some ideas. When I've decided on the name, you will be the first to know. Technically, you will be the second. I am sure that I will tell my wife first. But, you will be the first outside of my family circle to know. 


Oh, and I can say that it will launch sometime in the next few days. Don't worry. I still plan to keep writing for this blog too. I have a lot to say about things other than running. Stay tuned. I promise won't be gone so long this time. (Again, some of you may take that as a threat.) Take care for now.

Updated:
I made some progress tonight and launched Runner's Brother tonight. Check it out.

Why Bother Buying Toys

My daughter's preschool is having a consignment sale this weekend.  For those of you who do not know, a consignment sale is where a vendor (in this case parents) bring clothes or other items to a store (in this case a gymnasium) and sell them to the general public. A portion of the money goes to the vendor, and a portion goes to the store (in this case the school).

My wife is participating this year, and we have hangers and several totes, some empty, lying around our living room. My son, who is almost two, has decided it is a lot of fun to push the empty totes around our hardwood floors. He has been entertaining himself for hours doing this. When he gets bored with the totes, he goes for the hangers. These, he tries to spread open so that he can fit them on his head. Unfortunately, I to stop that one. He has a big head (a lot of brains) and those poor hangers were screaming for mercy.

With empty totes, why do I need to buy him toys? The answer - so that he can fill said totes with his toys. Silly Daddy, what was I thinking? Have fun while you can little man. Those totes are going back into the attic as soon as Mommy is done with them.

Neighbors

I am fortunate that I live where I live because I have the best neighbors in the world. The battery in my wife's van died yesterday. Of course, it died before Shannon could take my daughter Molly to school. We live close enough to the school that my daughter is considered a "walker." On cold days, my wife drives Molly to school. Since the temperatures were hovering around zero yesterday, we can classify that as cold.

Anyhow, the neighbor two doors down end up taking Molly to school. The other neighbor was going to pick Molly up if I wasn't able to get home from work and change the battery in time. They are good people. They are one of the reasons that living where we live is so wonderful. I will have to tell you more about them some time.

Not Much to Say

It has been a little over a week since my last post, and I really have not had much to say during that time. The thing is that I still have nothing really to say.

I wanted to stop by and let you know I am still alive and kicking. I am working out as I said I would in "I Don't Understand Skinny Jeans." I have the aches and pains to prove it .

That's it. That is all I have to say.

I Don't Understand Skinny Jeans

Skinny jeans perplex me. I am wearing a pair of pants right now that fit me prior to the this fall. Now, they have suddenly become too skinny for me. I cannot explain it, it must be my dryer...Such is life.

The point is that they fit me like a pair of skinny jeans would. I will tell you that they are very uncomfortable. In fact, I was trying to get my money clip out of my pocket while sitting in the car and was barely able to fit my hand into my pocket. Now, I refuse to buy bigger jeans, because I am going to start eating better and exercising, yet again. Yes, I know I said the same thing in September, 2010. This time I have more motivation. I am heavier than I have ever been in my life, none of my pants fit me correctly and I DO NOT like it.

So, my question is how can people find skinny jeans comfortable? I feel like a stuffed sausage in these my jeans that are too skinny for me. Can anyone please explain?

Author's Note: In my post, Goodbye Diet Vacation, I talked about a my wife joining a Biggest Loser Style Weight Loss Challenge. Yeah, well, she won! The Gym to which she belongs, Team AMS, is hosting the challenge again. She signed up again, and is actually leading the Cardio-Kickboxing Class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I am so proud of you honey!

When They Hurt, You Hurt

I knew something wasn't right when I came home tonight and my 3 year old wasn't screaming at the top of her lungs. My wife informed me that Jillian's belly hurt. I did not think anything of it - I just figured she was hungry or had to poop (that usually fixes it with my kids).

As it turns out she had gotten a little worse as the night progressed. In fact, she did not fight me when I told her to sit on the step for her half-hearted attempt at hitting her sister. I looked into her eyes and could tell she was feeling lousy. So, I checked her temperature and we got a 102. We gave her some medicine and snuggled with her, and her fever broke right before bed. She was back down to good old 98.6.

Throughout the night, I felt terrible for her. There wasn't a whole lot more we could do for her. It pained us to see her suffering like she was - it always does. Anytime one of my children suffers, even if it is a goofy splinter, a little something inside of me suffers along with them. It really is too bad that kisses cannot make all of there boo-boos all better.