For those that come here just for the pictures, this post is for you. Below are pic’s from Halloween and the “pet parade” we went to last week in honor of Halloween. People really like their dogs around here. Enjoy!

I don’t know what it is about me. Maybe a sign that I can’t see but the general public can. I envision it to say something like “Say stupid things to me” or maybe “I’m gullible, please approach with crazy story/plan/idea.” Or even worse, something like ”Say the dumbest thing you’ve ever said out loud TO ME, PLEASE, PICK ME!!!!”

Aside from some of the more mundane things like - “Are you SURE you’re not having twins?” when I was pregnant, there have been some real good ones. Sometimes people don’t even have to use words -  like the time that someone cut me off in a Walmart parking lot, then turned their car around and spit out their window on my windshield. Or the time when a CHP officer pulled me over to give me a ticket and ended up trying to offer me his phone number (along with the ticket). I even had someone who worked in HR tell me my boobs were big, while we were standing in the company restroom.

Because of these things, my friends have always joked that more happens to me in one day than the average person. If I had a nickle for every conversation with a friend that started out with me saying “You are never going to believe what happened to me today” I would be a wealthy girl.

Recently the activity has picked up a bit. I even got an anonymous email from a “secret admirer.” Seriously. Apparently I am still in 6th grade and no one informed me. I don’t know what I do that attracts the crazies but I sure have cornered the market on it. Sometimes I wish a was a shrinking violet, I wish I was someone who could just fade into the crowd - but no. I’m the girl always trying to get noticed and as I do, it is inevitable that the “noticing” take some awkward form that embarrasses both me and the other person.

So my readers what is your story? What is the stupidest thing someone has said/done to you?

First of all, apparently those who view my site would prefer it if my husband wrote on here more often! I have had more hits on this site today than I’ve had in a long time! So, to answer the burning questions regarding his post…

1. yes I was very surprised and teary eyed

2. he is definitely going to get lucky tonight.

On to the race. I guess I just can’t explain what yesterday felt like. Those of you who know me, know that I do not like to do things alone. I would prefer to be with people at any given moment of the day. I like to share life’s experiences with others. All of life’s experiences…even going to the grocery store. So, the fact that I signed up for and mostly trained alone for this race was a big deal for me. When I signed up, I didn’t really expect to get in (the Nike Women’s Marathon is a random lottery entrance). Over 30,000 people put their names in and 20,000 were allowed to participate. Once I was notified, I realized that not only did I have to do this race, I had to do it on my own. I was really nervous.

We arrived in SF on Saturday to register and have a little “couple time” in the City before the big day. At the registration area I started to realize what a big deal this was going to be and I became pretty anxious about being about to complete this task alone. We shopped for a while (I know, it hasn’t been 90 days, confession time on Friday!) and we saw W. the movie. Before my conservative readers freak out that we saw this movie let me say that (again with the lists!):

1. there was NOTHING else out and I wasn’t about to see the Secret of the Bees or whatever

2. I love politics so I find any depiction fascinating, even if I don’t agree.

The Expo where you sign in was amazing. All of Union Square is decorated with pink Nike paraphernalia and I loved it.

Kevin had control of the camera and managed to capture me in my true element, amongst stores, people and the City:

After walking around quite a bit, my feet were sore and I figured that wasn’t a good thing. So, we headed back to the hotel and had dinner at the Pub next door. After that I went back to the room, got my clothes ready and made sure I knew where I was going the next day. By 9:30 we were asleep - unfortunately that didn’t last long because the bed at the hotel was HORRIBLE and neither Kevin nor I slept much all night.

I got up at O’Dark Hundred and got a cab to the start line. Kevin was going to pack up the room, check out and meet me at the finish line (more on this later). When I got to Union Square I was in awe. I guess I have seen large crowds assembled before at concerts but for some reason seeing 20,000 people ready to run yesterday morning was just amazing. I started wishing that I had signed up for the Full, a feeling which would fade significantly at about Mile 10 and completely dissipate at Mile 11. I held up my cell phone so I could get you a peek at the crowd:

I met a girl in line for the bathroom named Jeanie. She was my age exactly, two kids and a hubby and was running for the same reason as me - mostly just to say she did it and to prove that a woman can recover from kids and be even better on the other end of pregnancy/childbirth. I was in the same time slot as her but lost her in a sea of people just after we parted ways at the port o’potty.

At about 6:45 AM the anticipation was getting pretty heavy and I realized that I was so far back it would be 15 minutes or more before I made it to the start line. Standing there, not knowing anyone or having anyone to talk to was odd for me. I am usually the one with my family or my girlfriends, chatting it up. Yesterday, I was all alone.

The first couple of miles were a blur and mostly just a pain as I tried to get around walkers and those running with their friends 5 across. Next time I will for sure start in a faster time bracket in order to avoid some of the walkers. Anyhow, it wasn’t until about Mile 4 that I started to come to the conclusion I may never be able to stop running. Meaning, the end was so far away that I couldn’t even picture it. Either way, it was about this time that I slowed down for my first water break. I slowed my pace and grabbed water, just like the runners you see on t.v. However, I tried to continue to run while drinking… I found this to be completely unsuccessful. I would have to wait until the next mile to actually consume any water.

I knew that mile 6 was the big hill that everyone talks about in this race. It is an entire mile of a steep incline. All of the people around me were talking about it and everyone seemed to have a game plan. Some were going to walk, some where going to walk every two minutes, some where going to complain the whole way (this seemed like the favored strategy). For whatever reason….I kicked butt on that hill. I loved running up it and I was pretty stoked when I saw the downhill in sight. What I didn’t plan for was how much the downhill would hurt. My knees felt as though they might pop right off and roll like tires down the hill without me.

At some point - mile 8? - I realized I was more than halfway and I started to feel really proud. We were running through this tunnel and on the other side was a beautiful view of the SF Bay. I actually teared up. I started to think about all of the people who can’t run. I started to remember why I wanted to do this in the first place. I remembered sitting in labor with Isaac and thinking, if I can do this…I can do anything. And indeed I was.

The next mile they had fresh orange slices. I don’t know what to say about these orange slices…other than I am pretty sure they had crack in them. Ladies, remember that meal you have after you give birth? You feel like nothing has ever tasted this good and you are amazed that you are able to eat when 30 minutes ago you thought you were dying? That is how good that orange was.

Mile 10 was a real bitch. It was a slow incline followed by a very steep downhill with a gorgeous view of the beach. However, the downhill was combined with a whole lot of wind and cold. I was miserable. This was the only part where I thought that I wanted to just stop. Mile 12 felt like forever but as I rounded the corner and saw the finish line 300 yards away, I was completely overcome. I had done it. And I had done it well. I started to sprint and I think I may have elbowed a lady out of my way…if you’re reading lady with the pink bandanna and blue shorts, I am sorry.

As I sprinted toward the finish line the smile on my face was huge. I felt like an Olympian, which I know is ridiculous, but it was really that awesome. My final race time was 2 hours, 25 minutes and 35 seconds. By no means a winning number but it was my number.

 Probably the most talked about thing at this race is the coveted Tiffany necklace given to the finishers. What I didn’t know until race day, is that the necklace is handed to you by a SF City firefighter in a tuxedo. This was the best part for many women…for me, I wasn’t really that pleased to see someone so dressed up when I look like death (see below).

If you are interested - here is the necklace (front):

Here is the back of the necklace:

Just after I collected my necklace and t-shirt, I texted Kevin and let him know that I was finised. When I didn’t hear from back from him in a few minutes, I called him. The Hubby, God bless him, got lost…then took a cab….then couldn’t get close to the finish line because of all of the road closures….then he had to run 3 miles to get to me. Poor guy comes running up, massive camera in one hand and my tube of Icy Hot in the other. He was so disappointed to have missed the finish but I was just happy to see him and happy to be done.

Words can’t express how I felt yesterday. I know it wasn’t a full marathon but my heart didn’t know the difference as I crossed the line. I’ve given birth to two beautiful boys and it taught me that the human body is an amazing creation. Running this race was just another way for me to appreciate how much I can do if I focus on a goal and never look back.

Thanks to all of you who watched the kids while I was doing training runs, to my hubby who had to put up with a lot of yapping about this goal since March and mostly to my kids…for giving me so much confidence.

I’ve gained quite the reputation around these parts. The word is spreading that I love make up and hair more than politics (yikes). Last weekend my friend Kim got married and she asked that I help with a few of the bridesmaids. I was really nervous but they all turned out to be the coolest girls and it was a lot of fun. I thought I would post some “evidence” of my burgeoning new business:

This is Stephanie - she is 5 months preggo. Yeah, I know…I didn’t look like that at 5 months pregnant either. She is genetically blessed. The best part about Stephanie though? SHE IS A CAL POLY GRAD! Go Mustangs! Stephanie has blue eyes and the dresses were a burnt sienna color. So, I used a blue based brown on her (Mulch by MAC) and mixed it with a color called Honesty which has gold and pink undertones.

This is Brittany. I had so much fun doing her makeup because she likes bright colors. I used MAC’s Gorgeous Gold mixed with a fantastic purple called Trax. She looked awesome!

This is Stephanie and her sister Heidi. They are best friends and sisters and guess what else? They are BOTH preggo! How cute is that? Heidi wanted her hair to look like Christina Applegate’s in Samantha Who and I was nervous to re-create something like that. However, when we were done everyone said it turned out better than the picture!.

This is the girls on the beach right after the ceremony. How cute are they?

This a close-up of my work at the reception. I had to convince these girls to wear concealor (to brighten up their under-eyes for pictures) but look at the results!

Here is a great shot of the whole wedding party - I wish I could take credit for the bride’s hair and makeup but alas I can not so, kudos to the other stylist.

Finally, above is a picture of my assistant, Jenny  and the lovely bride, Kim. We had such a great time at the wedding and I really loved being a part of the “get ready” process. There is just nothing better than wedding hair and make-up! Well, maybe a good political debate and a newborn baby to snuggle but that is it! 

My house sits on a hill. It gives me a perfect view into the house across the street, especially at night. I guess this could sound weird but really it isn’t.

The couple across the street have been married for more than 50 years. They are both in their late seventies and have a bevy of great grandchildren. I don’t know much more about them than these few facts. However, the view I have of their lives, makes me feel like I know them well.

Our neighborhood is dark at night - Carmel has no streetlights. So, when I am in the kitchen cleaning up after the kids are in bed, I can see the woman across the street cleaning her own kitchen. Sometimes she wears an apron, sometimes she has an old housecoat on. She spends a good portion of her time in the kitchen and I wonder what she cooks. I wonder if she has the recipes memorized, or if they were handed down from her mother. I see something through my kitchen window that transports me to another time. A time when a woman was first a girl, then a wife, then a mother and always a caretaker. Today’s roles are more complicated, or at least we’ve made them so.

Their days are scheduled. They stick to a pattern of activity, no doubt out of tradition. The husband still goes to work every morning and returns promptly at 5 p.m. every day. They eat dinner and then drive to the high school where they slowly walk the track, hand in hand. I know because I have passed them many times on my runs. When I see them, I want to barrel past the awkwardness and ask them how they manage to look so content, so in love after all of these years. There must be a secret, a path.

Often when I see the couple, I am filled with wonder. In today’s age, it seems as though marriages don’t last and people move around many times before settling down. Yet here is this couple, married for an eternity and living the quintessential American dream. I wish I could ask her what it is like to move through all of life’s stages. What it was like to cook a meal for a new husband, a new baby, a new grandchild, a great grandchild. What perspective she must have.

As the daylight hours have waned lately, I am up sometimes before sunrise with the kids. This of course once again, offers me a view into the life across the street. As I stumble to the refrigerator to get milk for Joshua, I see her. She is always drinking her coffee and reading the paper. He is by her side and it looks as though they move in sync without knowledge of it. Even in my sleepy haze, whereby I wonder if this stage of having young children will ever pass, I am pulled into reality that life goes by quickly. One day, I will be sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper (albeit the online version), passing Kevin the coffee before he even asks for it. Wondering, where all the years went.

This weekend, after several days of feeling terrible, I finally dragged myself to the local urgent care for some relief. We have only been here a few months and I’ve yet to get set up with a family doctor so, when in need, I was left with “doc in a box.”

I was up all of Friday night with a wretched sore throat, I couldn’t sleep because every time I swallowed, I would be jolted awake with the pain. I had a fever and was achy all over. Since both of the kids have been sick and required antibiotics, I figured that I might as well give in. So Saturday morning very early I went to the local clinic and waited to see the doctor. I sat there, feeling gross and sorry for myself and wondered if I would have a better experience here at this urgent care than I did when I took Isaac in last week.

Eventually they called me back and a male “nurse”  or “murse” put me in a room. After checking my vitals he told me the doctor would be right with me. As he closed the door, I could hear him begin a conversation the doctor about his hours for the day. I gathered by their conversation that he (the murse) was very unhappy with his job and he wanted to work elsewhere. He kept repeating things like, “they ain’t never gonna appreciate what I do here.” Hmmm. I should’ve known at this point that I was in for quite the examination, because if the murse ain’t happy ain’t no body happy.

The doctor came in shortly there after and proceeded to enter and exit the room about 6 times because he forgot his glasses! his pen! his clipboard! his stethoscope! his mind! ha ha ha! Dear goodness.

After he had all of his “stuff” gathered into one place, he began his exam. Now, I mentioned that my throat was extremely sore and that my glands were swollen so the outside of my throat was tender to the touch. He said he heard me, but he must have left his “listening ears” in the other room as well because he began pushing so hard on my throat I thought my trachea was going to pop.  (can it do that?) I said “ouch” loudly and gave him the evil eye. It didn’t seem to deter him as he then whipped out his knee knocker thing and tapped my cheeks with it until I actually asked him to stop. Is this even a medical technique? What was he trying to determine? If my cheeks have reflexes? 

After asking me to take a few deep breathes and listening to my lungs he declared that I have some sort of throat infection (SERIOUSLY? REALLY? BECAUSE I COULDN’T HAVE GUESSED THAT MR. MEDICAL SCHOOL). He then said the murse, aka Mr. Unappreciated, was going to come in and swab my throat for strep. At this point my “fight or flight” response had just about kicked in at the thought of an unhappy medical employee sticking something all the way down my swollen throat.

Murse waltzes in, tells me not to puke on him and sends a giant q-tip to the depths of my pain riddled throat. I gag reflexively and he quickly moves out of the room without another word. A few minutes pass and then the Doctor comes back in and says that he doesn’t think it is strep but he wants to treat me with antibiotics anyway because “clearly something is going on.” Very reassuring.

Just when I think this visit can’t get any better, the following conversation occurs:

Me:Can you give me something for the pain? My throat is hurting so bad and advil isn’t touching it.

Doc: (slowly, with sarcasm)I have a hard time prescribing pain meds for a sore throat - what do you want, vicodin?

Me:No, I don’t want vicodin, I just want something better than advil because it isn’t working and I have kids to take care of.

Doc:Well, I can give you something like Tylenol with codeine but I’m only going to give you 5.

Me: That is fine, I am not a drug seeker Doctor -if I were, I would have come up with something more believable than a sore throat!

Doc: Look, like I said, I am only giving you 5 and I am going to call it in, I’m not giving you a hand written prescription.

Me: (gasp!) Whatever!

Doc: Just make sure not to take this while you are watching your kids, use it at bedtime only!

Me: What are you talking about? Seriously, are you kidding me with this?

Doc: I will call it in to Target - is that okay?

Me: Fine.

At this point I get up and leave in total shock. I guess I didn’t realize how many people go to urgent care clinics seeking to fufill their drug habbits, or at least they must, because this is the only plausible explanation for this doctors’ behavior.  Not only did he question whether or not I was seeking drugs but then he basically insinuated that I might try to dope up on 5 Tylenol while watching my small children!

After this incident, and many others like it, whereby Iam convinced I have a sign on my forehead that says “say something stupid to me” I have decided that people are not normal. The good news is, the codeine was a blast and now I know which clinic to avoid next time I need it.

Okay people I get it. For one reason or another those of you who know me personally think that I resemble Sarah Palin. Apparently my fervent love for politics and my outspoken nature (along with my glasses) is enough for ALL of my friends and family to send gobs of emails and text messages saying “OMG, it was like watching you on the television!”

For the past two weeks the Easy Swede has been an infirmary. First Isaac had tonsulitis and bronchitis, then Joshua got croup. Four days ago I came down with tonsulitis and laryngitis. Now Kevin has some “itis” as well - for all I know he is suffering from “pain in the ass-itis” from listening to all of the whining that has gone on here for the past two weeks. So why am I telling you about our malady and what does it have to do with Sarah Palin?

Well, yesterday I went to urgent care, where after being questioned about my drug seeking habits, I was written a prescription for Tylenol with codeine. As it turns out, codeine was the one thing missing in my life! My creative gene was apparently inactive prior to my codeine use and now it has been unlocked and I managed to produce some art for you all to enjoy. Also, I will write more about the urgent care visit later, as it was truly memorable.

Hopefully this will put to rest the Sarah Palin text messages.

So much of our lives are composed of times of waiting. Waiting for events, doctors, mail, jobs, babies, etc. We wait mostly because we don’t have control over all things. We can’t control others schedules or mother natures’ plans or God’s timing.

I haven’t exactly been known to be a patient person. When I see something I want, I want it now. When I set a goal, I want to achieve it right away. I struggle infinitely with patience, as I am sure many do. None however, struggle greater with the “waiting” in life than children. Kids don’t grasp that doctors have other patients or candy before dinner isn’t a good idea. They don’t understand why Friday playdates have to be so far away. Most of these times of waiting, which seem endless to a child, are just good learning for what life is really like. Sometimes the “wait” has purpose and sometimes it is just, well,  because.

Yesterday, Kevin promised Isaac that we would roast marshmallows. He got in his mind that we were going to do it right away upon returning from the beach. However, it was 4pm and we needed to eat dinner, take showers and clean up before a fire could be started and the roasting could begin. Isaac must have asked 60 times between 4pm and 6pm when we were going to roast the marshmallows. Every time, our answer was the same, after dinner and after Joshua goes to bed (Joshie and fire are not a good mix, let alone showing him how to stick something INTO the fire).

Isaac grew increasingly impatient with the wait and disappeared into the kitchen. Just as Kevin was getting the fire going and as we were mere minutes away from roasting, Isaac returned with a snack bag of cookies. He asked if he could have the cookies instead of the marshmallows. He had waited, with great anticipation for marshmallow roasting and now when the event was only 5 minutes away, he wanted something else.

I asked him why he wanted the cookies instead and his answer was priceless. He simply looked at me and said: “If I have these, I don’t have to wait anymore and it will be almost as good.”

As he walked away with his cookies, I was thinking about the profound nature of his statement and how unknowingly he had truly summarized a good portion of American culture.  

How often in life do we get right to the edge of something great and give it up for something good, just so we don’t have to wait anymore? Waiting is so hard, it makes us feel as though we aren’t in control of our destiny. Sometimes I catch myself changing my plans in the middle of a long journey just so I can feel a sense of control over the direction.

Obviously, we are all called to times of waiting. I just wonder what, if given more patience, we could really derive from the time of waiting. Maybe the end result is the yummy roasted marshmallow or maybe the waiting itself ends up being the thing you needed but did not know you wanted.

I have a really cute outfit on today, if I must say. My hair turned out good as well and as I came in to work I was feeling sassy. I was rocking the red carpet entry into my office. I figure if you have to dislike your job, you might as well look good doing it, right?

Then…

After my third cup of coffee, I had to hit the restroom. As I was finishing up, I realized that my underwear were on inside out. What am I 5 years old?

Thanks for all the comments (even the contrary ones from my BFF)!!! Glad to hear that you all are listening.

 I love all 6 of you to death.

At this rate because of your loyal readership, I just might be famous 20 years from now. Gawd, I hope I don’t end up being one of those people who ends up famous after they die. If I am going to go to my grave in relative obscurity, it sure as heck better stay that way after I’m gone…ain’t no one getting famous off of Mama if Mama ain’t around!

So, I am starting to get the idea that in your 30’s you question things. And by things I mean everything. If I could sum up my 20’s, it would be OVERLY CONFIDENT.  I knew who I was, who I wanted to marry, how many kids to have, what job I wanted and when I wanted to retire. I was a registered voter and dedicated Republican. A faithful churchgoer and volunteer. I was a Coach purse loving, Grande Mocha drinking, Addidas wearing, Newsweek reading, George W Bush voter. I had it figured out people!

Then, one by one the bricks began to fall. I like soy lattes? I prefer Kate Spade and Asics? I hate republican politcs? Who am I? Mostly it started with having my first child. Isaac helped me to see beyond my point of view. He forced me to realize that everyone is someone’s baby, which puts a whole mew spin on how you see the world. So, with this change in mind, at 27 I did what I knew best, I figured it all out again.  I read Babywise and 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. If being a parent was a brave new world then I would conquer that world. For the next two years, I managed to work, be a mom and even balance the budget.

Then came Joshua. Okay, take a deep breathe, re-organize and start over. Only this time the starting over was like a sputter that never really got to a full start. Much like my Volkswagon in college, it looked pretty but it didn’t have second gear. I couldn’t manage my job and house and kids and everything else like I had before. All of the sudden traveling for work was painful and getting ready for church on Sundays was too hard to pull off. I couldn’t spend the time with my friends that I wanted and I felt relationships slip away. Having two children made me feel like little pieces of me were stolen away and they might not be given back. Worse yet, the question that haunted me was, do I want them back?

Do I want those friendships? Do I want this job? Do I want to go to church every Sunday? What is really important to me? It was like charting a totally new course, or building a house brick by brick. I felt really ill-equipt.

Now here I am in a new town, with a new job and feeling like I am not only lost but maybe someone burned the map and I am left to sift through ashes for directions. I am not unhappy or ill content, just confused about my future. I love my kids and on most days I actually long to have more. I surf the web and look at pictures of newborns or read birth stories and I even think about sneaking upstairs at the hospital and peaking at the nursery (this however is frowned upon by management and some federal laws). However, I can’t imagine adding another child to our chaos. I am also afraid my bladder might actually revolt at the prospect, along with my boobs…both would head further south.

On the other hand, I want to get a better job, one with more responsibility. I thrive on last minute decisions and finishing projects. I enjoy managing things, in fact it is something that actually comes naturally to me. It may sound crazy but on a really busy day at work, where I feel valued and responsible, I might not even think about the kids all day. (Yikes, that sounds bad)

However, what my 20’s taught me is that in my 30’s I don’t think I can’t do both, at least not in the traditional sense. I can’t work 8-5 in a managment position and have more children or even manage the schedules of the ones I already have. So am I supposed to take a break from climbing the ladder to have more children? Or is the fact that my life is chaotic enough right now an indicator that one more child would throw me over the edge?

So, I am 31. I am learning that what I thought I knew in my 20’s, I will re-evaluate in this decade. Does that mean it will happen again in my 40’s? Or at some point do I cease wondering what else is out there and feel comfortable that what I’ve chosen is right for me?

These are just some of the questions that go bump in the nightime of my mind. I promise to let you know if I figure out the answers. However, I can almost guarantee the answer will be different for each of you.