Five Years

Five years.
Where did they go??
It seems like you've always been with us. Like we were never really a family without you.
We kind of weren't.
At the same time it seems like we just brought you home, bundled up in that tiny camo fleece jacket and pooh bear hat with the ears, so tiny you were swallowed up by that infant carseat, barely fitting in the tiniest clothes.



5 years ago, we had just left for the hospital. We spent
the evening having one last date at the movies watching
Saw IV and eating at Chili's (half a turkey sandwich
and chicken enchilada soup--James loves that soup!
even now!), then came home to walk Nena around the
neighborhood and pack last minute items into the
hospital bag. 13 some-odd hours later, James was born
at 2:26 pm, blue and cone-headed. He was the most
beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

James, you were (and still are) the most-loved little boy. 

I still picture you in embroidered corduroy outfits Grandma made you for each holiday. Your first trips to meet Santa. Your first Christmas morning. You slept through the whole thing. Your second Christmas where you tore into wrapping paper, not really getting the concept, but still excited for new playthings. Your long, shaggy hair I refused to cut until it hung down in your eyes and Grandaddy threatened to give you a flat-top every time we visited. I remember the first time you splashed in your baby pool, how the upstate New York summer wasn't warm enough to heat the pool water and you squalled at us till we pulled you out of it.

 "Big brother" was a role you were made for. From the day Riley was born and you were so excited to help and hold him and love on him. You called him "baby" till he was almost two. You don't remember life without him.
You knew Poppy was Poppy (or "Cookie" at the time) before we did. You begged me to take you to the hospital to "see" her at another ultrasound. You couldn't wait for her to be born and asked every single day if it was time yet.

You've always said the funniest things. Ever since you could talk. You tell the best stories in a way that makes them serious and hilarious at the same time.

You're quiet, independent, a perfectionist. You like to do your own thing without distraction or interruption. You like things orderly. 

I have no idea where you got that when I am the messiest, most disorganized person.

You love all things Halloween, like a true October baby, but still have fears and limits and the occasional bad dream.

You are so honest and passionate and sensitive.

When your feelings are hurt, it breaks my heart.

You are the "oldest" through and through and sometimes you feel like you're missing out on things, being gone at school. When you feel left out, you start to show out. 

It's hard to remind myself to be aware of your feelings.

To empathize with you and your "oldest sibling" position.

I know a lot of times you get the raw deal. I'm still learning. 

You are so bright and creative.

I swear you'll be an architect some day. Or some kind of designer.

You can build anything with legos. Anything!

You never stop amazing me with your creations.

You soak up everything like a sponge.

You're cautious, careful.

Meticulous and thoughtful.

Ideas pour out of you. 

You love reading and learning.

Your teachers always brag on you.

You entertain everyone.

Five years is no time at all and a million years at the same time. 

You never stop amazing me, James.

I've loved watching you grow into the boy you are and in no time at all I'll have watched you grow into a young man. 

You are our light.

You made this family. You were our beginning.

You are still just the most loved little boy.

Happy birthday.

8 months

Wanna hear something crazy? Our little Pop-star is 8 months old this week!

Bananas!!

She is on the go, as always.

She's taken up to 3 steps.

Has two teeth!

As soon as I said "no sign of teeth" last month, I jinxed myself and in they came.

She's saying "dada" "mama" and I'm pretty sure I've heard "hey" and "no", too.

She's my runner baby. Whenever I put her in the jogging stroller for a morning run on days that the boys are in school, she's asleep within the first half mile. Won't stir until I stop. As Kelly and I discovered during her recent visit with us, the same does not go for walking. 

Also during our visit with "Aunt GeeGee", we got her first pair of boots. And second. And a cute little pair of grey mary-janes, too. What? She's practically walking anyway. Girlfriends needs some cute kicks. 

Babyfood is hit and miss. She was really into it for a while, eating just about anything I offered. Which was a huge leap from her flat-out refusing to eat anything that didn't come from a boob. Now she's not as interested. Even in real foods anymore. 

I think she's just going to go straight to a cup. I'm pretty much giving up the hope that she'll ever take a bottle.

She's eating though. 

Just whatever she's in the mood for.

And growing. 

Those long legs and limbs. 

Whenever I walk her around to get her to sleep at naptime or bedtime and catch a glimpse of us in the bedroom mirror, she just hangs down, all sprawled out. 

I can't believe how big she is!

She's not as roly poly as James was.

She moves around so much, she's been burning off her baby fat since she was 5 months old!

But boy is she long!

Wearing size 3 diapers and mostly 12 month size clothes.

She's still alllll girl.

Some days she is so serious and will not smile at anyone for anything.

Not unhappy, just serious.

Other days, she eats up all the attention that is constantly being lavished on her and giggles and smiles.

She's such a flirt.

She gets moody and sets her own schedule.

If she's tired, then she needs to sleep RIGHT NOW.

There is no waiting till after bath or story or dinner time.

She means now!

She's a great shopper.

Super laid back.

Loves her daddy and brothers.

She'll be "one of the boys" when she gets older.

No matter how long Jason's been away, in the field or whatever, she knows exactly who he is when he comes through that door.

She just grins and wants to be around him for the rest of the day.

She does the same thing with James when he comes home from school.

I'm so excited to celebrate all her firsts this month. First Halloween, first costume, first trick-or-treat, first pumpkin carving, first hay ride, first pile of leaves to play in. She's small enough that she's not really playing a huge role in most of it, but big enough that she's not sleeping through it either. She's in such a fun stage right now. Teething sucks, but isn't as rough as I remember it being with the boys. Her sleep schedule is mellowing out. She's moving and playing. She's always exploring. She's hitting these milestones and firsts and I just want to soak it all up!

Running

I haven't mentioned yet, mostly because my time is much more limited these days, but also because I wanted to make sure I was committed--but I'm going for it. I'm running the soldier's half marathon this November! I had planned to well over a year ago, but with our ever-changing moving plans and everything else on our plate, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to/be in town/be able to train properly in time/etc. Now that we won't be moving till later, I decided to just do it. I'm nearly halfway through my training program, officially registered, equipped with a brand new pair of kicks, and only a month out from race day!
I've been running, recreationally, since Poppy was about a month old. I had to stop running when I was about 7 months pregnant with her because of round-ligament pain and was stuck on the elliptical for the remainder of my pregnancy. As soon as she hit one month and I was feeling myself again after the c-section, I did a pitiful mile around the track at our local park. I ran the Dirty Girl mud 5k in Atlanta at the end of April, though it was more of a fun, informal, obstacle course thing than a "real" race. Getting back to a comfortable 3 mile, my go-to mileage for cardio on a regular basis, took a little longer than I had anticipated and my times were much slower than I remembered them being. But, then again, I've never been much of one to keep track of my miles/time/pace/etc. After years of running, I'd still consider myself novice at the sport, but it's always been something I've loved doing. I've been keeping up, for the most part, my 3 mile runs on the treadmill at the gym throughout the summer, so I figured once I decided to start training seriously for the upcoming race, that it'd be a cake-walk to get into. I anticipated the challenge of upping my mileage into ranges I'd never run before, but the beginning would surely be easy, right? I found an 8-week training plan that focuses on just making it over the finish line, with 3 and 4 mile runs during the week, 2 rest days a week, and a long run on the weekends, going up to 10 miles max and tapering off before race day. Perfect. I decided to start the weekend before training "officially" started and jump ahead a couple weeks. I was going to start off with a 6 miler instead of a 4. I laced up my worn out shoes, strapped my iphone on my arm, and headed on post to a safe, familiar housing area with ample sidewalks and friends who lived there and took off. Unfortunately this housing area was nothing but never-ending hills and zero shade. The Runkeeper app told me after the first five minutes that I wasn't even half a mile into this mess and I was huffing and puffing and miserable. I wanted to quit. I was done. There was no way I'd be able to make it to 13 miles at this rate. My time was something like 11+ minute miles, nothing like I thought it'd be. I was a 10 minute miler, MAX. Riiiiiight.
Reality set in and I quit after 3.72 pitiful miles, a full 40 minutes later. I was defeated. I drove home sore, sweaty, disappointed. I whined to Jason about my poor performance and how bad the area was. I couldn't do it.
At some point between then and the next day, I changed my mind from defeat to determination and ran a full 4 miles on the treadmill. My friend Julie, who doesn't love running near as much as I do (or at all) walked along beside me, keeping me distracted with girl talk. I finished in a little over 40 minutes. Maybe I could do this? It was on.
That first week was a huge turning point. By the next Sunday I successfully ran 6 miles in a shadier, prettier area of post. My time was 1:04:16. Better. Much better.
Each week for the next 3 I pounded the pavement. I discovered new trails. I knocked minutes off of my time. I freaked out anticipating my 8 mile run during our visit to Tennessee last weekend. I'm pretty sure I've run that far at some point, but maybe I haven't? If I did I certainly wouldn't know how fast (slow) I did it. But out I went on Sunday morning to the trail I've walked a thousand times on. I turned on Pandora, which I never do as I like to collect my thoughts and enjoy the crunch of leaves and hear a quick, breathy "morning" from any other runners on the trail. But I figured I could use a distraction on a run that would surely take me an hour a half. Apparently it served some motivation as well, I finished in 1:14:02, only 20 seconds later than my 7 miler had been the week before!
This morning I completed my 3 mile recovery run in 24:17! Tomorrow I have an intimidating 10 miles ahead of me. My palms sweat thinking about it. When my alarm goes off at 7 and again at 7:30 I'll probably hit snooze. Jason will have to talk me into just going. Get it over with. The first couple miles may be slow. I'll be trying to talk myself out of it. "I could just stop at 8. Or 6. I'm so tired. It's an off week. I've never run 10 before. I'm wearing out. I'm so thirsty. I want to quit". After the second mile I'm warmed up. I've found my stride. The Runkeeper lady comes on every 5 minutes telling me how awesome I'm doing. I'm going even faster than I have before! I could slow down if I need to! I find my stride. I enjoy the scenery. A great song comes on Pandora and gives me that extra boost to kick it up a little. I promise myself a cookie when I'm done.