Trapped in a Port a Potty

So there I am, all alone, trapped in a port-a potty unable to pull up my own pants.

What could have brought me to this lowly state? I've been in some ridiculous situations but seriously...how did this happen?

Well, remember that marathon I ran....

The morning of the marathon was cold, dark, and wet. After arriving in a pasture up a canyon at 3:45 in the morning and waiting in a freezing drizzle the race began. And 30 minutes later so did the rain, which lasted almost 2 hours. Then there was the wind. It lasted longer than that.

With water squishing out of my shoes and my jacket heavy laden with moisture I stopped at the half marathon point for a bathroom break. I was numb, cold, and shivering. Even my teeth chattered. (Even though it was June the temperature at that time was in the 40's.)

I staggered into the port-a-potty and with effort uncurled my frozen lobster claw hands enough to pull down my pants and make it to the bathroom. That's when the trouble began.

As I stood up I realized my hands were far more frozen than I had anticipated and far too frozen to grasp my soaking stretchy pants or the underwear clinging to my knees. Try as I might the paralyzed fingers were no match for wet clothing. Then to make matters worse as I'm bending over working on my problem my soaking hair keeps dripping into my eyes and freezing rain water pours out of the jacket and down my bare legs.

I'm cold, tired, partially naked and trapped in a plastic container full of other people's pee. What cold I do? I leaned my head against the door and cried. A more pathetic image of myself I can't imagine.

After a minute I pulled it together. This was not where I intended to stay. I let my pants drop completely to the floor of that filthy place and with gestures I can't even explain I pulled up those soggy stretchy pants and exited the potty.

I had overcome! I was victorious! Sure my pants were on crooked but who cares? I didn't have to finish the race with only Jon's jacket to cover my frozen rear end.

So, that's that. And this is my official marathon report post. In case you're wondering I did finish the race. And, I finished it fully clothed although later someone had to take my jacket off for me because my fingers were too numb.

The marathon was a funny thing. Horrible and wonderful and humiliating all at the same time. Here's to the St. George marathon coming up in a few months and here's to me wearing suspenders on my pants in case of inclimate weather.

Will Work For Rice Cooker

I just ruined like my 20th batch of rice. In row.
It's sitting on the kitchen counter. A giant ball of slimy goo stewed to gloppy perfection. Just the way I hate it---clumpy, bloated, squishy, wet, pasty---you know the kind.

I've made rice with out error just fine for the past 15 years and now I find it utterly impossible to brew edible rice.

So, goodbye lunch. I wish we'd have gotten to know each other better before I have to go back to sewing.

Possibly I'll use the money from this upcoming boutique to buy a rice cooker. Meanwhile I'll stitch away, stomach growling, wondering how this cooking anomaly has happened and why it has happened to me.

Tupperware Bins

Simon was driving Grace around in giant Tupperware bins today. (It's a favorite game. Grace gets in and then Simon pushes her at top speed up and down the hall.)

I was working on a project when I heard Simon giving Grace some instructions.
Simon: "Keep your arms and hands inside the car at all times and be sure to watch your kids."

*sigh*

It's raining outside...
I want to be at Disneyland or at least have the imagination of my kids so I can at least pretend to be.

The Dark

Last night I went in to check on Simon one last time before I went to bed.
When I leaned over to kiss him he said, "Mom, is that you?"
"Yes, Simon."
"Oh, I couldn't tell. It's hard to see with your eyes closed. Everything is so dark."

Tomorrow is the Big Day

Tomorrow is the marathon.



Besides the fact that I'm a miserable runner there will be some added goodness to the event like...



1. I'm coming down with a cold.

2. My right foot is covered in swollen and obnoxious mosquito bites from an outing a few nights back.

3. The temperature at the location and start time of the race will be under 40 degrees. (I HATE the cold.)

4. The weather during the race is supposed to be rainy with thunder and lightening storms. (I'm a scared, yes a scared---that's worse than afraid---of thunder and lightening.)

5. The race begins before the sun. I will leave home at 2:30 to make the bus that will take me to the starting line where I will start running at the unholy hour of 5:30 am. (I'm a scared of the dark as well.)

6. And lastly, well, I won't say what's last. But I will say that this isn't the ideal week for me to be running.



So there you have it. Tomorrow is sure to be AWESOME!

Then next time my brother gets any big ideas for family activities I'm just going to give him the double deuce and walk away. (You hear that Jake? THE DOUBLE DEUCE. I may not have used it since highschool but I haven't forgotten it. Oh, no. I haven't forgotten it.)

Who That?

Today Grace found a little card from who knows what with a pirate on it. It is a crazy girl pirate with her hair whipping around, climbing a rope, and swinging a sword.

"Who that?" she asked.
"A pirate." I say.
"NO! It mom." she says.
"No, it's not mom, it's a pirate."
"NOOOO! IT MOM!!!"

Wonderful. Now I'm a pirate.

It's Going To Be One Of Those Days

So far today...

We got up late and made it to soccer practice just as it was ending.

Then we drove to a car wash where I unloaded the 8 thousand pounds of crap in the van so I could vacuum it out. Unfortunately the vacuums were out of order. I reloaded the van and drove to the gas station.

There I unloaded the strollers, travel computers, DVD players, camping chairs, etc. onto the parking lot and began to vacuum out the van bus. That is when the screaming began. Grace screamed the ENTIRE time the vacuum was on which was a long time because....

...the dang vacuum hose wasn't long enough to reach the entire length of the van! So with all the doors and trunk open, the hose running, and my kids screaming I'm driving the van back and forth in front of the vacuum to get the hose to reach all the places that need to be vacuumed.

Yes, I did say kids screaming and not kid. During an episode of climbing around the van dragging the stupid hose it attached it self to my thigh and I couldn't get it off (luckily for me I chose to use the "Super Sucker" vacuum with the power of a jet engine). That's when Simon freaked. He thought the vacuum was going to eat me or at least my pants. So he spent the rest of the time yelling out his location so I wouldn't get too close with the man eating machine.

Vacuuming finished I pulled over for a drink. As I unload my kids I see I'm wet. No, Grace is wet. ALL WET. She has peed through her clothes and is a wash of smelly pee. (My heart sinks, I never want my kids stewing in their own juice--ever.)

We go in anyways. We get our drinks. Simon gets a Sprite. They are out of lids. Simon goes up front to ask if they have more lids. He spills his drink all over the front counter, himself, and the Hostess display case.

We pay for our drinks and go home where I throw Grace in the tub where she poops. Full on nuggets are floating around in the water. I get her out. I rinse her off. I get her dressed.

Right now both of my kids are on the couch watching Bug's Life and I'm going to go clean out the tub. I can't take any more disasters.

It's only noon and I'm already exhausted. I can tell it's just going to be one of those days.

ps--During the vacuuming my pants incident I had a flashback to a day several years ago when Simon was Gracie's age and I was cleaning out the car. We were at the same gas station using the same vacuum. I had climbed over the seat to do something and had left the vacuum on the seat where it flipped up and attached it self to my crotch. (Not a pretty image...if there are younger viewers please ask them to leave the room....)

I was freaking out and Simon was freaking out and I COULD NOT get that thing off of my pants. People at the pumps were staring. Finally there was a sound like a burp then like an aluminum can being crushed and the vacuum stopped and the side panel fell off of the main machine and some smoke and a burning smell came out. I just stood there for a minute then got back in my car and drove away.

True Story.

Maybe what I should learn from this morning is just to never clean out my vehicles. Ever.

Timing is Everything

Yesterday Simon and I were pulling into the gas station just as a heavy set older gentleman was leaving. He was bald on top with white fringe around the ears and back. Then he had a bushy grayish white beard and a sizable beer belly accentuated by a tight fitting bright red T-shirt.

"Mom!" says Simon, "Is that Santa Claus?"

"No," I say, "it's probably just his brother."

Had we been even 30 seconds earlier I would have had to deal with that comment in front of the Santa man look a like who wouldn't have been so jolly because as I discovered moments later from the gas attendant the poor guy had just hit a deer. (Isn't that an ironic twist of events?)

Thank goodness for sound proof van-buses and my taking forever to load the kids into them.

...and I've corrupted my children too...

In case you haven't heard the muffled laughter or felt the waves of awkwardness emanating from the chapel every Sunday then I'll just tell you what my current church calling is---primary chorister.

No,I'm not kidding.

Although I wish I were.

And while the image of me conducting music is ridiculous enough to be a post in and of itself I'll continue with my story...

Like I said, I'm the chorister and I'm supposed to be teaching a new song this week that I've never even heard before. So, in an effort to learn this thing I popped the primary CD featuring the song into the van as we drove down the road tonight and pressed repeat.

I listened and listened and listened.

It sounded so familiar. I couldn't quite put my finger on where I had heard it before.

Until... THAT"S IT!!! It sounded just like something that would play during a montage of loneliness in a movie where Winnie the Pooh and Eeyore have gotten into a fight and are no longer on speaking terms. (Seriously, it does.)

Just as I'm picturing said montage (Pooh sitting dejected on his porch. Eeyore watching his reflection in the river as a tear rolls down his cheek....) I hear Simon in the backseat, "Mom, why does this song sound like people are sad at each other?"

I wanted to ask him if he thought those people were really a stuffed bear and a clinically depressed donkey but figured that I've already done enough damage through the years if he's already beginning to think like me at age 5.