Off to the races

This is the summer of races for the Davidsons.

It all started with my mini-marathon a few weeks ago.

Then the Indy 500 race last weekend, which although we didn't get to participate in it, was still an awesome time, thanks to the super amazing seats courtesy of my dad's 30-year investment in 500 tickets, and also thanks to the enjoyable company of my sister Courtney and her boyfriend Casey and 300,000 of our closest friends.

This weekend, I'm running the Sunburst 5K.

In July, Ben and I are racing in the third annual Urban Adventure games in South Bend, a bike race with roughly 24 random checkpoints.

In August, we plan to run the Warrior Dash in Crawfordsville, a three-mile foot race with ten obstacle-type checkpoints throughout.

We also have a family vacation to Canada, an anniversary vacation, and a camping trip with friends all scheduled for July-August, plus somewhere in the middle of all that madness, my middle child turns four.


Four??!? How on earth did that happen?



Anyway, the point is, come the start of school this fall, I'll either be totally fulfilled after an amazing summer, or I'll be bruised and beaten and exhausted and perhaps wheelchair-bound.

Goin' Bananas

Tonight after work, I took the kids and Canada for a walk. Instead of just a plain ol' walk, I told the kids we should make it a 'detective walk' and search for clues.

I passed out little bags for the kids to collect clues in, in case it was a) the kind of clue you could pick up and b) something you wouldn't get arrested for stealing.

• Travis put a piece of paper and a pen in his bag, so he could write down clues and theories.

• Noah left his bag behind. He didn't want to have to deal with carrying something.

• Sophie loaded up her bag with a gold coin, a pencil, and a board book; and then also grabbed a plastic tea cup, a headband, two quarters, and a vacuum cleaner attachment to round out her collection.

• Yes, I'm serious. And yes, Sophie literally walked around the neighborhood with a vacuum cleaner attachment (the one you use to get into the crevices of couches and chairs) in her tiny grip.

You can tell a lot about my kids' personalities by looking at what they did with their bags.

Travis: the planner, likes to be prepared.

Noah: the free spirit, to heck with a plan, I just want to run around.

Sophie: the collector, the more stuff, the better, whether those items are useful or not.

In other random news, Travis tests for his yellow belt this weekend, then Indy 500, and then I run a 5K race next weekend. My first 5K race ever, but after the mini a few weeks ago.... piece of cake.

I mean, I don't want to be a running snob or anything, but, 3.1 miles? Please. I do that in my sleep.

(Seriously. I mean that. I ran 3 miles on my lunch break today and quite possibly might have been dozing off by the end of it. It could have been because my iPod was dead because I forgot to charge it so I just plugged my headphones into the thingie on the treadmill that connects to the TVs in my gym, and the only TV in my vicinity was tuned to the Food Network, so I was forced to watch and listen to Paula Deen making a variety of banana dishes in her special "Paula's Goin' Bananas" episode. I will admit though, the cheesy ham and banana casserole had my interest quite piqued. You just wait, office-mates, until our next breakfast pitch in.)

Mom, I'm looking for Sophie and I can't find her ANYwhere!

Noah and Sophie were playing hide and seek tonight.

Hmmmmm.......where could she be?

(Here's a hint)

Here I am!!

High fives!

I told you I'm a Ninja

Travis got a star patch at taekwondo tonight.

Because? He somehow convinced his mom to attend "Bring Your Mom to TaeKwonDo" month at his martial arts school.

Mr. Adams, the instructor, is running a special offer of free taekwondo lessons for a month for moms of his students, in honor of Mother's Day. And the students who get their moms to attend earn a patch for their uniform.

Who am I to deprive Travis of his first patch?

Yes, it's true folks, I've been honing my ninja skills.

I attend the adult class, Monday and Wednesday evenings until 9p.m. I generally don't take Travis because I get home well past his bedtime. The first night, however, I let him come so he could watch his mom learning all those moves. He was pretty pumped up about it.

I brought the iPad, so he wouldn't get bored. I don't think he watched me during class for a nanosecond. He had a crowd of kids around him the whole time while he wowed them with his Angry Birds skills.

My class is a bit different than the 6-to-12 yr old class that Travis attends and that I'm familiar with.

The adult class is HARD. I'm talking a real workout. With jumping drills and kicking and punching and all. Then we learn and practice self-defense moves, which is pretty cool.

Next month, in honor of Father's Day, on Monday and Wednesday evenings....

You guessed it.

Ben will be sitting at home passed out in his recliner.

Secret Weapon

Protecting his home and family is pretty important to my husband.

In the nearly ten years we've lived here, we've really not had so much as a threat of a break-in, but if ever Ben feels that some risk is presenting itself, he leaps into action.

Like the time he followed a car from our neighborhood to the 'bad' side of town, and wrote down their license plate number and the street address of the house they pulled into; all because they were driving slow by our house a couple times so Ben was convinced they were casing the joint. Turns out they were actually just visiting some neighbors.

Or the time we got egged by some high school students, and Ben tracked the egg purchase to the Meijer by our house, on account of the empty Meijer-brand egg carton he found discarded on the side of the road; then somehow convinced a Meijer manager to review surveillance video of the store where she was able to pinpoint a large egg purchase from a U-Scan machine, and she actually gave to Ben a printed still-shot from the video of the four culprits purchasing the eggs.

Ben is a little zealous when it comes to righting injustice.

However....and I don't want to give anyone any ideas here....I'm a little afraid that the only thing a would-be burglar would need to have in his arsenal in order to disarm my vigilante husband....

....is a dirty diaper.

There's not much that can stop this man dead in his tracks and render him essentially useless. A soiled diaper is one of those things.

We've made many a joke about it; and I often use it to my full advantage (I'll change Sophie's diaper if you fix dinner and clean the bathroom and go grocery shopping and put the kids to bed and pour me a glass of wine and take the dog for a walk and switch the laundry over and mow the lawn. Deal?)

He'll do just about anything to avoid the prospect of encountering a dirty diaper.

Every once in a while, after, oh I don't know, six and a half years of me changing all the diapers in this house, I will get annoyed and tell Ben I don't care how hard it is for him, he is going to have to suck it up and DEAL with it because it is his duty as a father, and then I load Travis up for tae kwon do and walk out the door and say Sophie better have a fresh bottom by the time I get back.

And then he calls me from home while I'm sitting at tae kwon do practice and tells me that he threw up while trying to deal with it and he tried to catch most of it in a plastic bag but then he just threw some paper towels on top of it and that's what is waiting for me when I get home.

So my choice is to either deal with all the dirty diapers, or deal with both the dirty diaper AND the fallout from trying to get Ben to do it.

I try to be sympathetic about it most of the time. I'm actually able to muster up any sympathy about 40 percent of the time.

I used to think Ben had a stomach of steel; because back in his prime he could eat or drink anything. Now I think his stomach could be more accurately described as..... pineapple jello. It's wiggly and slimy and slippery and just plain gross.

We are nearing the end of diaper days, as I am now working on potty-training Sophie.

Hmmm. I'm going to have to come up with something else to hang over Ben's head to trick him into doing all those chores.

The Fast-Flying Bird and Other Mysteries

Travis has always loved reading.

But, we have FOUND his genre.

I've blogged before about the Nate the Great detective books we picked up from the library. We've read many of those over the past months, and Travis still enjoys them.

Last library trip, I picked up a chapter book from another detective series, the Doyle & Fossey series. Doyle and Fossey are a best-friend fifth-grade detective duo that solve a myriad of mysteries.

But they are not just detectives. They are science detectives.

Travis instantly fell in love with this book. He wants to either read it or have it read to him every night, and he insisted on us creating his very own lab notebook and lab coat so he could embark on his own science detective adventures.

Tonight, as we were playing in the backyard, a couple mysteries unveiled themselves, perfect for a science detective to solve. One of them is detailed below. The second one, The Case of the Cloudy Day, was a bit easier to solve as it turned out that the wind had blown clouds in front of the sun.

(We almost had a case titled The Case of the Missing Pencil, but that one was solved as soon as it began. The answer: kitchen table.)

The Case of the Fast-Flying Bird

Scientist Travis noticed a bird flying unusually fast. His mission was to determine what caused the bird to fly so strangely fast.

He studied clues. (With some help.)

He wrote down his observations.

He commissioned the help of his cohort, Scientist Noah, who located the treasure map from yesterday's backyard adventures. The treasure map didn't really provide much help, but Scientist Noah was quite pleased with his discovery.

He formulated hypotheses.

Listed on this page are several ideas about what could have caused the fast-flying bird. In most cases, he drew pictures as well.

First: Black Holle (hole)

Second: Pipe, Ants

Third: 3 Pine Trees

Fourth: Bird Egg

Next to each theory, he marked those which he and/or Scientist Noah deemed most plausible. (As indicated by either ST or SN.)

His final determination was that there was an invisible pipe into which ants were crawling, that led to the bird. Ants were jumping onto the bird and biting it, causing the bird to fly faster in hopes of getting the ants to lose their balance and fall off.

"Cace of the Fast Flying Brid Solved"

We are eagerly awaiting whatever mysteries tomorrow might bring.

I Didn't Even Get to Shave my Legs

Well, I did it.

It may not have been pretty.....

but I crossed the finish line at mile marker 13-point-one.

I didn't run the whole way. I ran with my friend Heather, she's ran in two previous minis, and together we set a goal of running eight consecutive miles.

We saw the eight-mile-marker as we were running on the track at Indianapolis Motor Speedway, and I believe Heather's exact words were,

"OH Thank God...."

(The picture from above is about mile 7.5.)

We took a walk break from mile 8 to mile 10, then ran another mile, took another walk break, and then ran in for the finish. All told I ran ten of the thirteen miles, and I didn't completely humiliate myself.

Goal One: Not get picked up the emergency medic vehicle.

Result: Success.

Goal Two: Finish.

Result: Success.

Goal Three: Run eight consecutive miles.

Result: Success.

Goal Four: Run ten total miles.

Result: Success.

Goal Five: Crabwalk across the finish line.

Result: Fail.

You can't win them all.

The funny thing is, during my training I was so worried about having the stamina to run for that long. As it turns out, that wasn't an issue and I totally felt like I could have run more than I did -- cardiovascular-wise, that is.

The problem was my hip.

This isn't a surprise to me, as my hip acted up often during my training, when I would run longer runs. I could do five miles okay, but much more than that and my left hip would flare up in pain.

I did some stretches, but I'm just not a dedicated enough runner to really focus on that kind of thing, or know what to do about it.

So I kind of hoped for the best, and it was that that ended up being my downfall.

Maybe next time.

Speaking of next time, several people have asked me if I would do it again. I'm thinking yes, but give me a few months to recover first.

After the race, Heather got me a guest pass to her gym so we could go relax in the hot tub.

In the hot tub area, there were three posted rules.

1. Everyone must shower before entering the spa. (Rule one: broken. We did NOT shower before getting in. We climbed into the hut tub in all our sweaty, mini-marathon-finishing glory.)

2. Bathing suits are required. (Rule two: I'm happy to report we followed this one.)

3. No shaving in the spa area.

Um....what?

I'm a little curious as to what prompted this particular hygienic activity to be banned; as opposed to say, plucking eyebrows or clipping fingernails.

Nope. Just shaving is off-limits.

Lucky for LA Fitness, Heather and I had NOT come equipped with our shaving gel and razors.

So we relaxed in the hot tub, then after getting back to Heather's and packing up my stuff, I made the two-and-a-half hour drive up to the in-laws' place in Angola.

The drive wasn't bad, but my hip was stiff as a board by the time I got up there.

Spent Mother's Day with Ben's family, drove home this evening, and our whirlwind weekend is now coming to a close. I feel like it barely started.

Ridiculously Adorable

Sophie's regular response to an inquiry about a missing item's whereabouts is:

"I ate it"

(You have to imagine it being said in a high-pitched, matter-of-fact, kind of sing-songy voice.)


No matter whether I'm asking about Travis's Moose, the Wii remotes, or the kitchen scissors. No matter whether I'm asking her, or anyone else in the vicinity.


"Hmmmm, where did I put my keys...."


Sophie: "I ate it."


"Ben, where did you put the digital camera?"


Sophie: "I ate it."


"Has anyone seen Canada?"




You get the picture.




A couple days ago, I heard the kids giggling about giving each other hugs.

This is what I heard:


Sophie: You give me a hug?

Travis: Sophie, you go right there. Noah, here. Okay, you hug me and I will hug Sophie. Okay?


Noah: Hug! Hug! Hug! Hug HUG!


I walked in and found this:







I totally love it. This is quickly becoming one of my favorite photos of all time.


Another picture I totally love:

Travis really loves reading. Noah loves having books read to him. Who knew having kids could work out so nicely?

Mommy Time

Today was the Mother's Day program at Travis's Kindergarten.

Travis was the star of the show.

Literally.

A week or so ago, his teachers sent home a note in the daily folder about the program, and explained that each kid was to dress up as a nursery rhyme character. They included each child's character assignment in that note.

If you can't tell, Travis's 'character' was the Little Star. You know, the Little Star. The famous one. The one that twinkles.

Not exactly a character, per se, but cute nonetheless.

It was our job to create the costume, they said it didn't need to be anything elaborate, so I had to talk Ben down from creating some cardboard monstrosity with battery-operated actual twinkling lights, that probably would have included some contraption that would have allowed Travis to be suspended from the ceiling because, clearly, that is much more realistic.

Instead I just went out and bought some yellow posterboard, made a front and a back, connected them with some yarn, then used the excess to make a pointy hat.

(The hat was Ben's idea.)

Today was the first day of onsite training from the vendor of our new management system -- the database migration I've been immersed in for three months now. We've got a real live guy that actually knows what he's doing that is in our office all week to get our people up to speed, and the first training for my unit was, of course, scheduled for the exact same time as my kid's Mother's Day program.

I only missed a teeny bit of training though, and my work peeps were nice enough not to give me a hard time about it.

Ben came too, but he didn't get the fancy set-up that I did.

Travis typed up a letter for me:

The kids all lined up in the cafeteria and sang the little nursery rhymes. The characters for each rhyme would come and stand in the center and, in some cases, do a little "skit".

In case you can't see Travis in the neon yellow outfit, that's him in between the clock from Hickory Dickory Dock and Peter, Peter Pumpkin Eater.

Travis didn't really have much performing to do. I mean, the only action verb from his nursery rhyme is "twinkle".

I think he looked pretty twinkly though.

Thanks for an awesome Mother's Day gift, Travis!

Primary Opposition

Yesterday was primary election day in Indiana.

I didn't vote.

I'm opposed to primary elections. I mean, I guess I'm not entirely opposed to the whole idea of them. I just think there are some fallacies involved.

I mean, I get that this is how each party determines which candidate is going to be on the official ballot. And I can see how the primary is a preferable alternative to not putting it out to the general public at all.

And I guess I can even see why primaries are split into party lines. As in, you can only vote Democrat or only vote Republican in a primary election. Otherwise, the system is open to more shenanigans that could be considered fraudulent at worst, or misleading at best. Like Limbaugh's Operation Chaos of the last Presidential election; where he encouraged like-minded conservatives and Republicans to vote in the Democratic presidential primary -- the Republican candidate was all but locked-in, so nothing to lose there; and by convincing more people to vote for Hillary, it kept her in the race longer and meant Obama wasn't able to declare primary victory as early -- thereby delaying his ability to focus on the next phase of campaigning. That kind of ploy is shameful and a mockery of the voting system.

BUT. By allowing only dedicated party supporters to vote in the primary, aren't we essentially guaranteeing that only hard-core party politicians will win? I mean, if a primary election is limited to only Democrats or those willing to vote only Democrat, then won't the results be skewed towards the more left-leaning of those candidates? And won't the Republican primary most likely result in a farther-right-wing candidate winning out over a more middle-of-the-road conservative?

I'm not a party supporter. I'm mostly conservative, and generally moderate on social issues.

I think the federal government should stay out of most things as much as possible. I think government is more effective on the state and local level, and less so on the federal level for lots of things.

I think too much interference in a capitalistic system just leads to government-sanctioned market selection, which I detest.

I would be more in favor of a universal health-care system, or public option, than the load of junk that we got in this latest health-care bill.

At any rate, my point is, I don't fit into a PARTY. I prefer it that way. But that means this primary election, as do most, meant nothing to me.

I wanted to vote for a Democratic candidate for mayor, and a Republican candidate for City Council. I can't do that in the primary election.

What does that mean? I can only vote for one of my preferred candidates; therefore I have to decide which race means more to me? I'm not able to voice my opinion for both?

So I didn't vote. Probably others didn't either.

Doesn't that mean that the most electable candidate, the one that appeals not only to the party base but also to independents, doesn't necessarily win? And wouldn't that be contrary to what the party wants?

I suppose there's not much I can do to change the system. But I'm taking my passive stand. By not voting.

And blogging.

Consider my duty served.

April Showers

Last weekend, I took a three-and-half hour road trip with a couple girlfriends to a bridal shower for one of the girls.

I say three-and-a-half hours. That number is subject to interpretation.

You see, we set out shortly after 8a.m., and the GPS showed us arriving at 11:30. That's three and a half hours... right?

The shower didn't start until 1:00; so we dilly-dallyed. We stopped at Target. We picked up some water, and some earrings for the bride-to-be. (She was wearing two different earrings. It was not a fashion statement.)

We looked at shoes. Stopped in the pharmacy department to pick up some generic Advil for me because I was starting to develop a headache. Found Target-brand Advil for 89 cents for a bottle of 24 pills.

All three of us grabbed a bottle. That kind of a deal is just too hard to pass up.

You really start to feel the aging process when you realize how excited you get now about cheap pain-reliever, instead of, say, cheap cases of beer.

Anyway, we got back on the road and were still showing an arrival time of 11:45 or so. We didn't want to get there too early, say any earlier than 12:30, so as not to upset the hostess's well-laid plans.

At the suggestion of the bride-to-be's father, we let up on the gas and kind of putzed our way along, and made some plans to stop at some shops in town upon arrival, thus delaying our trip until the requisite 15-20 minutes prior to start-time.

Melissa, sitting in the back seat of the car, noticed the actual time was 11:30. She also noted that we were about an hour away from Detroit, which is about half an hour away from our final destination.

11:30 plus one hour to Detroit plus half an hour to Rochester = 1:00.

GPS shows arrival time of 11:55.

Something didn't quite compute.

FINALLY, one of us realized that the TIME on the GPS was incorrectly shown as 10:30, not 11:30. Tom-tom thought we'd get there at 11:55. Turns out, we were actually slated for arrival at 12:55.

We were all of a sudden perilously close to being LATE for the party.

Our lead-foot bride, however, saved the day. We pulled in with about 10 minutes to spare. (I'm just kidding, Mimi and Pops, if you're reading this. She drove very responsibly. Just a little more purposefully.)

The party was lovely, a nice time was had by all.

True to form, I was unprepared, and had put off the gift-preparation (wrapping and card-writing) until the night before. I pulled out my box of greeting cards and flipped through it, looking for the bridal shower card.

I found it. Kind of.

It was an anniversary card. I could have sworn I had a bridal shower card in there.

I totally could have gone out and bought a bridal shower card then and there. I also could have used the "friendship" card that was kind of generic and boringly pretty.

Instead, I used a "Get Well Soon" card. I wrote a lengthy letter on the inside explaining my dilemma and that I'd gone that route just to be funny.

We all know the truth is that it was a sadly-devised plan to conceal my hopeless disorganization.

Oh well. They all fell for it.

Other pics of the party below. Thanks to the hostesses and others that put on the party. We had a great time.