The Day Isabella Ran 2 Miles With Mommy!

So I have not posted anything in a while and am prompted and proud to tell the world about the memories I made with Isabella this morning. Last fall, we laced up our running shoes together, and "Ready, Set, Go." Isabella and I jogged and walked around the park across the street from our house. She has been asking me to do this almost daily since those few chilly mornings last fall. "Mom, when can I sign up for a marathon?" She sweetly asked on occassion. Last night, she inquired of this again, and I replied "How about in the morning?"

She woke me (as usual) at 6 am. "Mom - Can I wear these pants on our run this morning?" She held up a pair of sweat pants in front of my face - at 6 am, when I am only looking at the world with one eye open and had no time to even brew the coffee, let alone have any. "Isabella - we cannot go yet...it's too cold." So every 15 to 20 minutes thereafter she asked, "Is it time yet?" I gave in to her request with frost still on the grass and after only 2 cups of Joe.

This is where the story gets good. She asked if we could run up an ENORMOUS hill by the house and I shook my head in disbelief. "Come on Mommy. Let's go!" She ran all the way up this hill as I jogged beside her in amazement. Each time we crossed a street, she reached out and held my hand. What a proud moment when she and I ran hand in hand across a small side-street near home. According to Garmin, we completed 2 miles with a brief "Mommy, let's sit here on the curb a minute and rest," break, and several water stops.

I remember as a kid my dad determined that 23 times around my small house in Tremont was 1 mile. I remember my dad mowing the yard while I ran round and round and round my house....I think I was in grade school, but not nearly as young as 6 years old. The memories we created this morning are unsurpassed.

The Fish That Is Immortal

I think it is a bit humorous that most of my posts revolve around my pets. I am in my house so much of the time due to the fact I work here (I have a wonderful office...really it is great), that I spend so much time alone. But alas, I have a fish story. It really is not anything too crazy except that this one lone fish won't die. Now I am all about loving animals, but this fish is immortal. For one of Isabella's birthdays we bought her 3 small goldfish. Now one died after a short period of time and I replaced it before she was any wiser, but one day after church she shrieked and discovered there was another casualty floating in the tank. We really didn't want to replace that one, as the novelty of the aquarium had kinda worn off...it was not fun anymore to clean the tank and watch them do nothing all day. About 2 years ago, the last remaining goldfish swam sideways and stayed still in his tank for about 3 days. We watched it and waited. It is the only fish in the tank, and cleaning that thing is more than I can take...so it gets grimy and disgusting, and once it starts to smell foul, then I clean it. Well long story short, the sideways-swimming fish recovered. Two years later it is huge and still swimming mindlessly in the tank and I am waiting for him to die and probably won't die until I am least expecting it. I really do not have the heart to flush him (I mean that would be cruel), but every morning I feed him, I think "today is the day," and he lives to prove me wrong.

The Kitten is Possessed

I am certain she is possessed....psychotic...out of control. Crazy in a way that if she were human would require large amounts of Thorazine or electro-shock therapy to manage. This small feline was a spontaneous decision 5 days before Christmas and was a gift for Isabella. Most shelters do not recommend adopting animals at the holidays because once the festivities are over, the shine wears off and they become a responsibility instead of a novelty. Now this is crystal clear to me. Back to being possessed...last night in the middle of the night, this kitten tried to climb a plant in my living room that is bigger than my daughter. The plant was a large entity in this room, because as it were, the room stands primarily empty with the exception of the plant....bigger than most children, but smaller than a tree. Once the possessed creature got to the top of the plant, she sat down. Sat down and the plant gave up. It gave up and split in the middle. The entire plant, soil and pot....a very large pot, came toppling over. The amount of soil in my carpet is that which no Hoover can fix. Every morning I get out of bed and hold my breath and wait to find out what other things this cat has done to my house. She pulls full roles of toilet paper off the role; pulls every tissue out of the Kleenex box, and eats anything that is on my kitchen floor...even onions. I say all this in one context, but remind myself that my daughter thinks she is the most amazing creature that walked the planet. Daisy (the possessed feline) curls up at night on my legs as I am trying to sleep and she grooms the older 10-year old cat and I think that the soil on the floor and the toilet paper shredded throughout the house might be remotely worth it.

The Day I Actually Gave Thought To a Bacon Cheeseburger

For 10 years I was a vegetarian. Most people, when finding out I didn't eat carcass, would ask why. Read the John Robbins books and you get the picture. On September 30th of last year I was in the midst of a heartache, just separating from my husband, and decided I was going to eat chicken. Just like that. I was standing in line to order by boring veggie salad at a Mexican restaurant and decided.....mmmm....chicken. All 10 years of principles out the window in an instant decision of chicken on top of my salad. Now I cannot get enough. I won't go into the times I have actually salivated and swallowed whole pieces of pork, chicken, beef, etc. Roast on a Sunday...the smells of it "roasting" in my crock pot fill my house and I wonder how it is I actually went 10 years. 10 years (!) without any sort of animal. Today I was driving home from running errands for work, and as my friend Stefanie states "just got starving." I realized I needed to drive as quickly as possible for the greasiest, largest bacon cheeseburger on the planet. Now I am not a large person, but when I was ordering and subsequently eating this delight, I realized I could eat 45 of these delectables in one sitting. I could devour 45 large bacon cheeseburgers and smile at how they melt in my mouth and make my tummy happy. I was once told that I have an appetite of 10 men. Driving my car and eating this wondrous blend of grease, I realized, it is a good thing I am a runner. I am a 400 pound woman trapped in a skinny body.

The Day I Could Have Been Nicer to Isabella

I love this blog in a way because it is a therapist's chair to the internet. I can sit here and type anything and delete it, type it again and delete it, and end up with a product that is readable by the rest of the world and feel better about whatever it is I am writing. This morning my sweet daughter woke up with a whine. She whined through breakfast and she whined through her shower. She whined as she put her tights on for church and pulled her dress over her head. She whined about brushing her teeth and every activity in between and then began to tell me how she didn't want to go to Mass and she didn't understand why she needed to go. I was "done" by 10am. We spent the day (as the form of punishment) without television (see previous flamingo story), and made use of the rooms full of toys she has crammed in 3 of her rooms in the house. That didn't go so hot and she counted down the time that I told her she could start watching television again. Once television began again, she whined more about staying up later than her normal bedtime (just because mom is a softy). Nevertheless, that didn't go well. Now she sleeps and I look at her sweetly. She lays there in her Disney Princess bed and is angelic and innocent, and I want to tell her I love her and that I won't be quite so crabby tomorrow. She is innocence in a beautiful little girl.

The Day I Drowned in Flamingos

We are knee-deep in flamingos. Yep – pink ones. You know the birds that are pink and stand on one leg…from the Tropics? Every month Isabella gets an issue of Ranger Rick, the kid’s magazine that I remember reading as a kid. Most of the time, it collects dust on our coffee table until it gets moved around enough to be thrown away. One afternoon I was flipping through her latest issue with unusual interest and a homemade Valentine caught my eye. The “completed project” is a pink flamingo made with feathers, 2 hearts (glued back to back); pipe cleaners; a little construction paper beak, and 2 very tiny squiggly eyes….you get the idea. Well I must have been feeling particularly ambitious because I was convinced this would be an easy project to complete for Isabella’s coming Valentine’s party. This morning we went to the local craft store and spent a whopping $7 and purchased enough pipe cleaners, construction paper, feathers, and craft glue to make 35 valentines. Okay there I stumble across my problem. 35 of these little craft projects, and that is at the very least. That’s 35 beaks, 70 legs, 70 hearts, and don’t even get me started on how many little squiggly (teeny-tiny) eyes I need to glue. So my coffee table looks like it has been taken over by a scrapbook company, and the day of the party, there will be 35 children who will take one look at my hard work and think, “Where’s my candy?” and toss it out. Isabella wrote “from Isabella” about 20 times and then said “I’m tiiiiiiirrred!” promptly put down her pencil, and walked away. Meanwhile asking every 15 minutes “Mom, when will you be finished? Wow that is a lot of work, huh?” Seriously? And of course, we have to make enough for grandmas and grandpas and the elderly lady across the street, and the drama teacher and the girl scout leader, and…..well you get my point. I think we are up to making at least 45 flamingos now. I am in it too far now to back out. I have at least 5 solid hours invested and a little girl who thinks I am the cat’s meow. That will make it all worth it. It beats the heck out of tar on my car.