Hot Chocolate 5K

Last Sunday, I finally ran the Hot Chocolate run.

This was actually the very first race I was ever seriously interested in.  I found it online a couple of years ago, back when Matt was still in Iraq and I was only toying around with the idea of entering some running events.  It caught my eye because of the jackets they give away and also, duh, CHOCOLATE.

I didn't end up doing the race that year because Matt was still deployed when they ran it.  I suppose I could have gotten childcare and then gone by myself, but let me just be honest and admit that without Matt I would have never been brave enough to ever try a race.  Also, back then it was only a 15K.  As much as I had already set my hopes on some day completing a half marathon (13.1 miles) starting right out of the gate aiming for almost 10 miles didn't seem like the best plan.

And so then the following year I was pregnant with Lucy, so, no.  I didn't run it last year either.

But this year?  

This year I was game.

I was FINALLY gonna get me that jacket!!  ( I really love running jackets.)

Except, I only signed up for the 5K.  Yes, they added a 5K starting last year.  I had a friend who was going to do it with me, bu then she gave up chocolate for Lent.  Oh well.  I run best by myself anyway.  So it was just me versus that 5K.

And boy was that a good choice.  Because, they run this race usually in city areas.  And here in Southern California, city areas all seem to be hella hilly!

I mean, I TRIED really hard to talk myself into the 15K.  But I'm unfortunately too familiar with the area of town where the course was and just how big some of those hills would be.  So yeah, the 3 miles of the 5K would be plenty.

I know that sounds like I'm a wimp.

How can I even talk about trying to to a race in San Francisco, let a lone maybe trying a FULL someday if I'm afraid of a few hills?

But, whatever.

The thing it, right now, nursing Lucy and with our schedules, I don't have a great amount of time to train, let alone for hills.  And here is the topography chart for the 5K alone.

Um... Yeah.  That's plenty for me.  Thanks.  

If you can't read the fine print, it says the total elevation gain is 357 feet.  The max slope is about 23% and the average is about 4%.  Even with all the downhills to recover, and with an actual overall downhill to the course (because we ended a couple blocks closer to the bay and therefore further down the general hill- which slopes up away from the sea- of downtown then the start line) it was still a lot.  

We started on a hill and really there wasn't any relief from it until after the first mile marker, and then HECK, why wouldn't they just put this random out and back in there for about 4 blocks on one street when "out" part of that street happens to have a nice 125 foot climb over a lovely little stretch of road equaling less than half a mile?

OUCH.

The fact of the matter is I MADE myself run the entire race even though it was all hills until I was about half way up that stupid hill right before the 2nd mile marker.  And sure I was slow and not breaking any records but I was running!  I was.  Really.  Until I was trudging along up that slope and looked over that this lady next to me who'd clearly already given up on and quit that darned hill.  She was walking and didn't even seem to be trying particularly hard to move quickly and still she was managing to pass by me.  Yup.  I stopped pretending to run right there and walked the rest of the way until the turn around at the top of that hill.

Once I rounded the bend at the top I got my run back on a finished pretty strong.

Certainly not a record breaking speed for me.  Not by a long shot.  But I was happy with how I did.  And it was fun.

You know what else was fun?  My finisher's mug of chocolate fondue.  I wrapped it up and took it all home and it was awesome.

By the look of my middle section in that last picture, I probably should have skipped the chocolate.  But whatever.  You only live once right?  

Anyway, so I finished the race in 38 minutes and 2 seconds.  That seriously might be my worst 5K time yet, but even still I averaged a 12:14 minute per mile pace which isn't actually too terrible.  Not great either, but not too terrible.

I was the 3263rd person out of 7774 to finish the 5K overall. 5K.

I was 2183rd out of 5792 women.

In my division (age and gender) I was 316th out of 883.

None of that is really very good.  None of it really matters either.

:)

Anyway, now I just need to figure out what race I want to do next.  :)

Lucy's 6 Months Check-Up

So, as I mentioned earlier, Lucy was 6 months old back at the beginning of the month.  Of course this meant it was time to take her in for another check up at the pediatrician.  This post is sort of late, but a couple of weeks ago I got her in.

I'm happy to report that things are still going well with her, and she seems very healthy overall.  The doctor seems unconcerned about there being any real potential problems. She's growing and eating well.  She's friendly and social and she is exploring her little world and becoming mobile and starting to vocalize more and more.

So that's good.

The only concern continues to be her dry, often rashy skin.  It's a work in progress, but she seems to be like Peter (and me) with the crappy skin.  His seems to be much better most of the time these days but mine is just awful.  It looks like it might be time to go back to the free and clear soaps and detergents and chemical free everything once again.  Fun times.

She got a whole mess of vaccines again.  That's actually kind of a long and controversial story involving insurance and their lack of willingness to give her the combo vaccine (even though they had it) as opposed to the 3 separate shots, which I find to be absolutely ridiculous.  My doctor was honest with me and I appreciate it, but I still absolutely disagree with them refusing to give us the combo shot.

So my poor girl took probably 45 minutes to drink the oral vaccine and then she received 5 shots in her sweet chubby little thighs.

I know some people think I am getting all upset needlessly about the extra needle pricks but really it is ridiculous. I'm not going to get into the debate about vaccines and their timelines or any of that because if I wanted to space out the shots they would let me, but that wouldn't do anything to reduce the total number of times she gets stabbed.  All I am going to say is that my baby took 4 shots in her little legs like a champ.  She barely even winced, all though with each painful jab she grew more and more concerned.  Finally, when the fifth poke got her, she lost her brave face, lost it and started to cry.

It's so ridiculous.

I've come so far as a mother.  I used to get all emotional before they even got the first needle into Peter's legs.  I didn't do much better with A.J.  But nowadays, I am able to keep it together and be brave for my baby overall.  But seriously, 5 shots is just too many.  Especially when she wouldn't have cried at all during the series of shots if they had been done after only 3 or 4 pokes.

And just think... if it was still flu season, they would have wanted to give her a flu shot as well and that would have made it SIX.

Anyway, so her stats were as follows:

Height/Length- 71.8 cm (2 feet 4.25 inches,) 99th % ile
Weight- 16 lbs 4.5 ounces, 46th % ile
Head Circumference- 42.5 cm (16.73 inches,) 50th % ile

She's my big girl already.  And by big I mean TALL.  I can't believe how fast she's growing.

Socks are better to play with Mommy.  Why would I leave them on my feet?

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

So, St. Patrick's Day was last week.  We didn't make a fuss.  Peter's school had a non-uniform day for even the kids in the upper grades so long as they wore green.  His class had a little party and Irish themed activities that day.  Since I was getting him dressed all in green, I went ahead and got him some fun accessories as well and I got the girls dressed in green as well.

When I was a kid I lived in a town called Dublin.  They took St. Patrick's Day really seriously and I got pinched and put in "Jail" for not wearing green a lot at school.  We're not even the slightest bit Irish, so my mother couldn't have cared less and never understood why I was sad to be left out of the fun.  I guess this is why I made at least the minimal effort even this year when I really only had the energy for the bare minimum.

Anyway, the kids and I got some pictures that morning before school.  Their Dad has a decent amount of Irish heritage in him, so I guess that means my kids have at least a teensy bit of Irish in them to embrace too.

Peter found that outfit for Lucy and picked it out for her when we went into the store to get his headband.

Triple threat.  

Fun times right?

Don't I look excited?

Yeah.

Maybe I'll do better next year.

Navy Supply Corps Birthday Ball

On Saturday evening, Matt and I had a sitter come to stay with our minions and we got all dressed up to attend this year's Navy Supply Corps Birthday Ball.

Matt cleans up nicely doesn't he?

Even though I can promise you is the first thing he'll say is he can't believe how thin his hair in on top now.  I suppose I could photoshop it for him, but I don't see a point.  He looks FINE even with less hair on top. That's the thing about men right?  They get better and more distinguished with age.

Women?

As we get older we just have to keep working harder and harder to look acceptable.

If we had a baby just over 6 months ago we have to basically starve ourselves for a month ahead of time to ensure the new dress that we ordered which should have been plenty big enough but for some inexplicable reason kind of wasn't, will actually zip. We have to spend an hour and a half at the salon getting our hair blown out.  We have to spend another hour applying make up to cover all the lines and the wrinkles and the zits that we are ABSOLUTELY too old to still be fighting.  Then we have to smoosh our skinny-enough but still VERY wobbily from growing 3 babies middle section into some fantastically small "smoothing" underpants armor to make ourselves look okay in our almost-too-small-seriously-should-have-gone-up-a-size gown.  That's not to mention the push up bra with the nursing pads discretely tucked into the cups so that our boobies don't start to leak through our dress a little should the evening drag on a little longer than planned.

Honestly.  

Back to the like, turbo, one gajillion strength, super-wham-a-dine, extra elasticy, goes up to your bra, makes it so you can't breath and don't wear these too often because you are very likely to suffer some sort of catastrophic organ failure- skinny-fying underpants.

They took me about 10 minutes just to get on.

Hahah.

But, between the starve myself for a month even though it makes me kind of bitchy all the time diet....

And my super underpants....

Damn I looked good.

Or, hmm... maybe I should have squeezed in some arm workouts to tone up those biceps again.  Grrr....

Anyway.

Enough about looks.  Yes, looking pretty is important.  But what's more important?

A night out.

A night out with other grown ups, AWAY from the kids.

:)

This year the Ball was held down in Coronado at the Marriot, overlooking San Diego bay.  We didn't exactly see most of the resort but out front they had several little ponds, including this one which had a little flock of flamingos.  Not that you can see them behind us really, but I promise they are there.

PS... I heard a whole bunch of places got snow again last week.  Meanwhile we were having some sort of heat wave during the day.  But by 6 when we arrived, it was absolutely MARVELOUS.  

JUST LOOK AT THAT BLUE SKY.

I knew there was a reason we love living here.

So anyway, once we got inside we got out professional "prom pose" picture taken and then we did cocktail hour.  I made friends with some random spouse right away and we played fashion police for the duration. 

That's always fun.

She was looking lovely in a long, fitted, black jersey number that I am way too fat too pull off any more so I give her props for still having it.

I however, realize now that I stuck out like a sour thumb being basically 6 feet tall in heels and then wearing bright WHITE and RED.  Goodness.  Nearly everyone else was in black (because, DUH, their uniforms are black) but also at least half of the dates wore black gowns as well.  I found myself wondering why I never wear black.  

Seriously, I think I have worn black maybe.... twice in nearly 15 years worth of these formals.

I hate black.

Black is boring.  Slimming or not, it's so plain.  I like COLOR.

And also, on me, black looks like a horrifying snow storm because of my skin.

Ew.

What's that you say?  Enough Jen.  Really.  Nobody wants to hear about your fat or your boobs or your "moderate-to-severe plaque psoriasis" this much.  Now that you mention it, nobody wants to hear about that stuff, pretty much, like, ever.

Well, get over it, because this is the reality of my 90% of my existence these days:  Raising and nursing Babies/Kids, Trying to put my body back together after having babies/kids, trying to make my skin stop falling off.  The end.  That's all.  Haha.

Also, ew, the way I just wrote that makes it sounds like maybe I nurse all 3 of the kids still.  And I really, really don't.  It's just the baby I promise.  (And I really want to be done with that already.)

PS, probably somebody else just read that who happens to be, like, IN to nursing their 3 and 4 year olds and now I have offended them.  But whatever.  I give up.

Moving on....

Maybe next year I should choose something a little less stand-out-ish for my dress, because I am obnoxious enough all on my own even when I don't choose to wear something obnoxious.

Oh, but it was just so preeeeeetty.  

Oh well.  Hopefully I didn't embarrass Matt (too much) (again.)

Anyway.

Soon enough it was time to take our seats.

There was the normal 10 minutes of them trying to get everyone seated and quiet.

There was the panic when we realized Matt left his cell phone in the car and the babysitter only had his cell phone number to call just in case.  (He ran out to get it.  Boy was he unhappy.  But I cried high heels and won the argument.)

Then there was the introductory remarks, the colors, the anthem, the prayer and then it was time to eat.  

And it was about time because I was sta-arving.  

OMG they passed out bread first.  And I haven't been eating much bread for like a month.  But my dress was on now so GIMME ALL THE BREAD.  Yummmmmm....

Matt was all about this weirdo flat bread.  He nibbled on it quietly through out a lot of the opening announcements and stuff.  He seriously might have eaten all the flat bread from the whole basket of assorted breads.

And also, when I took a picture of them eating, they both laughed and told me to take it again.
Haha.  

We were, actually, sitting right by the band.

And by band, I mean a woodwind quintet.  Nicely done Ball committee.  Good choice.

I originally had typed "quartet."  Geeez.  I need to remind myself how to count.

So then after the bread there was salad and then we waited for our dinners.  I'm sure there were more speeches and things.  I confess, my back was to the podium so I wasn't exactly paying the closest attention.

Finally the main course arrived.I was less than impressed.  My beef was over done and WAY too peppery.  Darn it.  Matt traded me half his good meat for half of my over done meat but I was still irritated.  

However, seated across the table from us were a two folks who both happened to have broken arms from two totally unrelated motorcycle accidents.  I  found this to be very confusing because Matt was just telling me the other day about somebody from his office who'd injured themselves in a motorcycle accident.  And NO it wasn't either of these two.  So basically it seems like if you work in his building, maybe riding a motorcycle isn't the best plan right now.  Because 3 people injured in motorcycle accidents from one building seems like kind of poor odds.

The fellow on the left (seen in the photo below) got sort of mad at me for saying that.  I tried to explain that I wasn't picking.  I like motorcycles.  I told him I used to ride on my Dad's motorcycle aging back to when I was, like, 2.  He said there was no way this was true and basically told me I was full of sh*t.  I assured him it was true and told him I'd love to have a motorcycle of my own accept my husband would really rather I didn't.  And also, now that we have 3 kids, their car seats don't exactly fit.

But I'd still love to have a motorcycle for recreational use if I could.

And he still gave me crap.  Yet his wife, who actually might be the one who works in Matt's building (and is not in the picture) stayed strangely quiet about the whole thing.  I wonder if she rides herself.  I wonder if she approves....

Somewhere I have a picture of me on a motorcycle with my Dad as a little kid and boy do I wish I knew where.

Whatever.

After that I didn't feel so bad for laughing at him as he struggled to cut his meat.

Meanwhile, the lady on the right, she was just hilarious about it.  Basically, she was making fun of herself for crashing and getting herself into the situation.

I liked her much better.

In other news, soon enough dessert came around.

Yet again this year they had the big gigantic ceremonial birthday cake that they cut at the beginning and then NEVER even served.  Instead we got carrot cake.  

I mean, carrot cake is fine and good.  Except for the fact that in the grand scheme of desserts it is basically health food.  

Terrible small portions of over cooked, over spiced beef and healthy desserts?

Don't they know this is like my ONE good night out a year?

Oh well.

After dessert it was time for the guest speaker.  Originally it was supposed to be Rudy.  Like "Rudy" of the movie "Rudy" about the Notre Dame Football player.  I was kind of excited to meet him because I have a friend who was nicknamed after him in college marching band for being the little guy with big dreams just like him or something.  

Except I guess he cancelled or couldn't make it because instead we got to hear from a retired Navy Supply Corps Officer who after his retirement had been a contractor working in Iraq for awhile until one day he got kidnapped by a gang of, um, extremists or something.  He was held hostage for 311 days in various locations until U.S. Special Forces came along and rescued him.

It was a fascinating story.

One I'm glad to have heard, but only now that Matt is home from Iraq.  I certainly won't be volunteering him to go back as a contractor any time soon.  That's for sure...

When he was done, the formal part of the evening was concluded and they turned the lights down and the DJ stepped up and it was time for dancing and craziness.

Except that is about as crazy as Matt got.  He didn't dance.

I danced a little while all the people at our table mostly stared at me.  Except the shorter Lieutenant girl danced with me for a minute as well.  Mostly I think she was just egging me on.  Clearly she doesn't know me well enough because you don't have to try very hard to get me to embarrass myself.

NOT THAT I DID.

Matt is way too Senior these days (not that he's THAT senior, but he's also really not a newbie anymore) for me to misbehave for real.  I have to represent my man properly after all.

:)

Even still, when I came back from dancing to a song or two he just kept telling me it was time to go.  

And, like, as much as I love and missed my kiddos I wasn't ready to go home to them.  I wanted to have fun.

He kept reminding me that our babysitter had plans the next day an we didn't need to keep her out later than necessary.

He also kept looking at me like this:

This is so completely his Disapproving Kermit the Frog Face.
He does it so well doesn't he?

He usually reserves that look for me when I actually AM thoroughly embarrassing myself, or worse yet him.  Or when I say things like "bread roll" or "laundry machines" or "Don't you love these new and completely impractical shoes I just bought myself because they were ON SALE!!!!"

I have no idea why he was making that face at me on Saturday.

But he just kept doing it until everybody else from our table left and then I agreed to go too.

Everybody from our table.  See what I mean about sticking out like a sore thumb?
I tried to crouch down in front so as not to stick out so much, but it didn't work.

All in all, it was a good night.

We had fun.

And I was only a little bit hung over in the morning.  But that was okay because my husband, "Lieutenant Commander Morning Person" snuck out early to pick up donuts before anybody else woke up.

Surprise!

He takes me out AND  he buys me sugary breakfast treats the next day.

I'm the luckiest girl alive.

More T-Ball

Peter had another T-Ball game this weekend.

It was blindingly hot, and I ended up getting sun burnt on my shoulders, but it's okay.  It was Saturday.  And as Peter's assistant coach says, "Saturday: It's baseball day."  :)

We started at bat first.  Peter did pretty well this first time, despite deciding to bat right again.

It's impressive that he can bat on either side I guess, but he really is better on his left.

At 3rd.  I think he, like, tripped over the base or something.

There he goes again sliding into home....

Random shot of Lucy.  Haha.  Chubby legs.

When they went to the field, Peter wound up in Center Field.  This turned out okay actually, because a couple kids actually got the ball out there to him, so he had something to do out there a bit besides pick grass.  Or his nose.

He looks like a Peanuts character to me even more than ever when he puts on his baseball stuff.  Honestly.  I keep waiting to see Snoopy come in at shortstop or Lucy falling asleep out in left field.  (Lucy Van Pelt, I mean, not my baby.)

The next time at bat I went behind the plate and stuck my camera through the fence to get pictures.  He went right again, only this time it didn't go as well.  He missed the ball like 3 times before he finally hit it.  (Ugh.)

He did eventually get it off the tee and so then of course he rounded the bases and eventually made it back home again.

Next, his coach put him at second.  In this next picture, he's actually standing way to the right of the plate, almost in the middle of the picture.  

Zoomed in for another close up.

My goodness was this ever an exciting inning for him.  The ball went right to him 4 or 5 times.  And he pretty much got it each time.  I mean, not so much in the picture below, where he missed it on his first try but I promise he did better the other times.  I just got excited cheering the other times and stopped taking pictures.

He was so cute.  He'd catch those ground balls and then jump up with the ball held high in the air like "I GOT IT!!!"  and then everybody would yell and remind him to throw it to first and then he'd be like "oh!" and he'd stop for another moment to get his feet and arms lined up and then he'd waiver for a bit to check himself and only THEN would he throw the ball to first.  :)

Even with all of that, a few times he still beat the base runner so, you know, good job son.

Running after a ball that went between them.

Actually I think either right before that or right after, he got into a little "fight" with another player on his team over the ball.  Oops.

Although, after the scuffle, he came out with the ball and threw it to first, so... for whatever that's worth.

He's crouched down in this one waiting for more grounders.

Soon enough, it was the last inning (we play 3) and they were at bat again.

Lining up in the dugout.

Frustrated after his last attempt, I asked him to go left.  He did and it was MUCH better.

(I told him so!)

First try- Nailed it! (Note the ball flying on the left in the picture)

Racing to first!  

Back at third.  (I spent most of the game sitting behind 3rd.)

Lucy got hot in her stroller pretty quickly so we took turns holding her.  When Matt was with A.J. helping her go potty (in her own potty that we have to bring along in the back of the car in order to get her to go outside the house) another Dad volunteered to hold Lucy for a few minutes.  Then the chair he was sitting in broke right out from under him (darned cheap folding camping chairs) and scared her when he got up so fast. Poor baby.  She wasn't happy with him anymore.

Also that hat.  Haha.  It was A.J.'s and I always said she looked like a southern belle wearing it.
Apparently, "Blanche" is back because we have another southern belle.
(Blanche, being my go-to southern belle name of choice for some reason.)  

Anyway so that was the game.

Quick cheer as a team.

And of course, the obligatory high-five line.

Good Game. Good Game. Good Game. Gooooood Gaaaaaaaame....

It was funny because right at the end of the game the coach was scrambling to find a pen.  I wound up being the first one to have one for him.  And so when everything was wrapped up and he gathered the team over I got my pen back and was just sitting down to wait for them to be done, but the coach told me to get my camera back out because I wouldn't want to miss this....

After each game, the coaches gather the kids up in the grass under some shade for a team meeting.  They discuss for a minute how everyone did.  This includes good things to keep doing and not so good things they need to work on.

Then the coach identifies one player who he feels did excellent that week and he presents him with the game ball.  And this week, our coach picked Peter.  :)

Some of the older boys on the team are sort of "on to" the coach and are already guessing who will get the ball and trying to see whose name he's writing on the ball.  But, honestly, not Peter. (At least not yet.)  I don't think he even remembered that they were going to give out a game ball.  So the coach made his little speech describing the good things he had done during the game and then when he called out Peter's name he was just SO shocked and excited.

Honestly, I was so proud.  Peter certainly hadn't played a perfect game, but he had done pretty well.  A small part of me worried he would never get the game ball this season.  I feel like I used to be a person who obsessed about winning awards (employee of the month, etc) and NEVER did.  Also, there are 12 kids on our team and we only have 8 games.  Matt and I had actually discussed it last week and were trying to figure out what to do if Peter got really upset to never get a ball.  BUT, then, like, NEVER MIND, because he did.  And in only the 2nd week!

Part of me wondered if the coach had missed the part where Peter was fighting over the ball with his own team mate.  Haha.  Or, maybe coach felt sorry for him because he has this CRAZY mom who can't keep her mouth shut and is always shouting cheers and encouragements and corrections at him.  

(I do.)

And I swear I'm not trying to pressure him or pick on him.  I mean, I honestly, can't stop myself.  I just want him to pay attention.  I worry he's going to zone out and get hit in the head with the ball or something.  

Also, obviously, I want him to do his best.

If I was REALLY crazy I wouldn't let him bat right sometimes....

Anyway, I was so pleased for him.  

He seemed pretty pleased too.

When we got home we proudly placed the ball up on the shelf with his other trophies from t-ball and soccer.

Also, since I was taking pictures, that other Dad (the one who'd been holding Lucy earlier) took video of the coach presenting the game ball to Peter and sent it to me.  It's a little blurry from being downsized to send, but you'll get the gist.

Seriously.

Such nice words about my little baseball boy.  I love that the coach rewarded him for trying his best.  That's really all we can hope for isn't it?  

And also, his little reaction.  How he raises his hand.  The little smile.

Just.

That.

My heart melts.  

People tell me I am too hard on him.  But they haven't been through what we've been through with him, and I just want the best for him and I honestly don't know how else to be.

In any case, we've got a good kid.  He's sweet, and adorable, and humble and best of all, GRATEFUL.  :)