Mom in DCity

Why Race If You’re Not Gonna Win?

February 28, 2013 by momindcity 8 Comments

It has been 50 degrees in DC the past couple of days, which reminds me that Spring is near, which then reminds me that my Baby Phat jumpsuit can (and will) soon make an appearance.

Prepping to wear more JLOesque attire means it’s time to get with the program and tighten up. The holidays are over, so I should probably stop shoveling cookies dipped in Nutella, topped with ice cream into my mouth. I ended up losing 15 pounds with the help of the MyFitnessPal app, but a few of those have made it back onto my hips.

I got a Nike Fuel Band for my birthday and it has tricked me into thinking that active=in shape. The Fuel Band goes around your wrist, tracks your movement and tells you how much “fuel” you’ve earned. It’s supposed to motivate you to be more active. For more details (and a giggle), read what Dan Catt has to say about it.

Anyway, in case you’re wondering, you can earn 6,000 fuel points cleaning your house and going to kids birthday parties but that does not mean you’re in shape.

Back when I was running several times a week, I decided to sign up for the Cherry Blossom 10 Miler. A couple of weeks ago I decided it was time to start training. Shouldn’t be too bad, right? I’ve been killing it with fuel points. Apparently that’s not how t works.

I actually had to ice my legs after a 3 mile run. Luckily, I have a lot of support:

My daughter, Lira, who asked (after a personal best in my first 10K) “Why do you race when you’re not gonna win?”
My husband, Dave, who takes me to the track for sprint workouts and then says things like “is that seriously the fastest you can run? What are you going to do if somebody’s chasing you?”
My mom who refers to any race I sign up for as a marathon. (“When’s that marathon? How’s marathon training going?”)
My running buddy, Katie, who’s an overachiever and says things like “don’t worry, I’ll make your Elmo headband along with my Big Bird one so we can look extra awesome when we run!” (overachiever)
Where’s Cookie Monster?

So I’ve done some serious math (we’re talking calculus-level) and have figured out that, if I add a mile each weekend, I’ll run 10 miles for the first time ever on race day. This past weekend I ran from my house past the Capitol Building, Washington Monument, Lincoln Memorial and ended at the DC WWI Memorial. This exercise taught me a few things:

1. 5 miles is a lot and only halfway to 10.
2. People would really be jealous if they knew I could just run by this cool stuff whenever I want (which is obviously why I’m sharing)
3. It’s hard to complain about your legs hurting when you’re at a war memorial. I mean, it’s not like I just died fighting for my country.

You're jealous, aren't you? — You’re jealous, aren’t you?

I think Lira summed it up best. Why race if you’re not gonna win?

See you at the finish line.

My 6-Year-Old Teenager’s First School Dance

February 14, 2013 by momindcity 7 Comments

The evidence has been building, and it’s all pointing toward one thing: Lira is turning into a girl. Yes, I’ve known her gender since well before birth– but this goes beyond pink onsies. Here were the first clues:

1. “I want to go to my hair lady!” During a recent mall visit, I suggested a quick haircut at Cartoon Cuts. They show you cartoons while they do your hair. What’s not to like about that?! But little missy wasn’t having it, and I wasn’t in the mood to argue. We went to her hair lady later that week.

2. “Everybody’s going to laugh at me!” When I didn’t fix her hair the way she wanted it yesterday, she sobbed that she’d be the laughingstock of Kindergarten. So I did what any reasonable mom would do: yanked the rubber bands and barrettes out of her head and told her to it herself.

3. “I can’t wear this!” This one happened tonight when we showed up at her school just in time to walk her into the cafeteria for the Valentine’s Day dance. She was wearing her DC public school uniform, and was mortified at the thought of going to the dance without going home to change first. I pointed out that a lot of other kids were in their uniforms. After sobbing, then apologizing, then asking me again (politely this time) if I’d take her home to change… I told her Daddy could if he wanted to. He’s a sucker for those tears.

When Lira arrived back at school, she twirled right onto the dance floor like she owned the place. That Easter Dress from 2 years ago apparently hasn’t gone out of fashion.

She paired the dress with hot pink leggings-- a bold choice — Now she’s ready for her close up

The school dance was one to remember. It was a lot like a night out at a club minus the liquor.

The kids were jamming to unedited Nikki Minaj songs (I swear heard the F bomb, but nobody else seemed to notice), teaching each other how to Dougie, and crawling on the floor in an effort to prove that they do, in fact, have the Moves Like Jagger.

Baby You're a Firework! — Baby You’re a Firework!

Wouldn't leave her sister's side for a second — Will you puh-leese teach me how to Dougie?

By the end of the night, they were sweating, taking off articles of clothing, and had spent way too much money on pizza, juice boxes, pictures, and Mardi Gras beads. They didn’t even have money for a cab ride home, but it’s cool ’cause they found some suckers to drop them off.

It's a Party in the USA! — It’s a Party in the USA!

Here they are just before the dance ended:

Then it was straight home to binge on Valentines candy before bed. They fell asleep talking and giggling while I listened from the other room.

“We went to the disco ball… you were dancing like this… remember when you did this?”

I remember hundreds of nights in college that ended the same way.

If Lira has to be a “girl,” at least she’s one who knows how to party. Maybe I’ll be one of those moms who tags along with her daughters at the club. Wouldn’t that be awesome?!

TGIF: Tantrums Gone In (en) Fuego

February 1, 2013 by momindcity 4 Comments

It was one of those days… the kind that make you want to throw a temper tantrum. It started with Zana hiding her lunch so that I’d have to search for it instead of leaving for work on time. When the missing lunch was uncovered, I stormed out the door only to slip on black ice. After being laughed at by a group of high schoolers, I stood up cleaned my bloody knee—which was easy thanks to the new hold in my favorite jeans—and then left for work.

The ride to work was equally awesome with Zana screaming “I don’t like that song” about all of her favorites, and then crying when I turned off the stereo altogether.

Fast forward about 10 hours…

This is how it begins... — This is how it begins…

Now she's really upset — Now she’s really upset

This is after showed he a few pictures of herself — This is after I showed her a few pictures of herself

I feel the same way. Can I have a time out too?

TGIF?

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off Part 2 (year old)

January 15, 2013 by momindcity 2 Comments

I don’t think I’ve ever shown Zana the movie “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” but today is making me wonder.

You’ve seen that movie, right? If not, stop reading this and go Netfix it now. It rules. Ferris fakes being sick and has every high schooler’s dream day.

I think Zana is channeling her inner Ferris. She has a 103 fever, so I’m at home with her.

Now, I realize that you can’t really fake that (can you???), but the way she’s acting is pretty weird.

After a rough night with her in the bed moaning and kicking me, Zana woke up well rested and exclaimed “I’m sick, so I don’t have to go to school today or brush my hair!” (Brushing her hair is the bane of her existence. We may have to shave her head.)

I took her temp just to be sure; yep, still high.

And so it began… a day of snuggling, cartoons, mac and cheese, and bubble baths.

She’s been a perfect, smiling angel today. But who wouldn’t be while doing everything their heart desires?

I spent some time Googling to determine if this “illness” warrants a trip to the doctor. As a working mom, I tend to err on the side of a doctors visit. The sooner she’s feeling better, the sooner I can get back to the office. But I also don’t want to expose her to every yucky thing in the doctors waiting room.

My favorite finding in my internet research today was when I searched “fever hungry”– because she’s been eating a ton. Results included “Hunger Games Fever” (which she obviously has) and a lot of links to articles about bodybuilders getting fevers when they’re hungry. I had no idea! Maybe she’s a bodybuilder?! But it’s probably just a virus…

I’d love to hear if any of your kiddos have had “sick” days like these.

Anyone? … Anyone? … Bueller? … Bueller?

Is Rat Murder a Crime?

December 26, 2012 by momindcity 4 Comments

I’m embarrassed to even tell you all this—especially all the non-Washingtonians who believe (like I did) that rats will only live in the filthiest of places. But for the past couple of weeks, at least one fat, hairy nasty rodent has taken-up residence in… our house!

How do I know this? The evidence had been mounting for a while—food strewn across the floor in the morning, loud chewing sounds coming from behind our garbage disposal, and most recently… the fat f sucker actually jumped out from behind the cabinets and onto my foot! You should have heard me scream… then jump on the counter and throw my foot into the kitchen sink to scrub it with an SOS pad. The thing was huge!

I promise I’m a clean person—it’s almost a psychosis. My husband feels the need to remind me that “we don’t live in a museum, and it doesn’t have to be immaculate at all times.” But maybe I’m just kidding myself (and Dave)?

Our neighbors can attest to the fact that, when you live in DC, it’s not a battle against rodents; it’s an all out war. Since we all live in connected row houses, calling pest control (which we have all done multiple times) just moves the varmints to your neighbors’ house. Those suckers move underground through sewer lines and crawl spaces, and they’re wicked smart, stealing food out of traps while leaving them un-tripped

Some will tell you rodents are scared of people, but don’t believe them. Those long-tailed animals will come out, look you right in the eye and go about their business. It doesn’t help that I’m terrified of them. Just last night, I came downstairs for a drink of water, turned on the lights one at a time and yelled a warning cry, hoping that if anyone was in the kitchen they’d scurry away.

We’ve tried poison tablets, traps, and even considered getting (gasp!) a cat. But tonight, we are victorious. Guilty of our first rat murder! We didn’t use an ordinary trap for this crime. This was an industrial strength, chop-your-finger-off, you’d-better-not-use-it-around-pets trap. Dave set it behind our garbage disposal and baited the rat with some apple slices.

Christmas went off without a hitch and Uncle Fester (as I affectionately call our rodent friend) didn’t even come out to open his presents. I figured he was just laying low since we’ve had so many people over, and I was still terrified every time I walked in the kitchen.

Dave decided it was time to check the trap, even though we didn’t smell the rotting stench that usually comes with dead animals. I left the room. “We got him!”

No way!!! I sang a little song, did a little dance, and stayed as far away as possible while Dave bagged up Uncle Fester, took him outside and reminded me that “we have won the battle, but not the war.”

How’s a soldier like me supposed to sleep at night?!

« Previous Page
1
…
4
5
6
7
8
…
20
Next Page »