just a phase... scary...

Today I dropped Tali off at school and for the third day in a row, I left her crying, clinging to my leg and with the most tortured and miserable expression her face--a look that might seem reasonable if I'd just said, "Bye bye, Baby! I left you a plate of soggy brussel sprouts for lunch and have fun cleaning up your brother's legos all day long!" but not for leaving her with the world's yummiest Kindergarten teacher ever--Morah Mary Grace.

Outside the classroom, after Morah Mary Grace intercepted, gently closed the door and made the international hand signal for please get the hell out of here fast, the other parents were standing around talking about their kids. Of course.

"She's just going through something," my friend says. We could still hear Tali's wails from inside the classroom. "She'll be okay in a sec."
"It could be the change of seasons," someone else says.
"Or the fact that it's the end of the week," someone says.
"Or that she's the middle child."
"Kindergartners are always like this," says a parent with an older child. "They don't know if they're big or little anymore."

Maybe her planets are no longer in alignment?
Or maybe it's another phase...

Except, if they're always in one phase or another, does that even make any part of it a phase at all?

Last year, in preschool, T went through this phase where she didn't want to go to school, hated being away from me, and cried miserably when I dropped her off. Sounds just like now, except that I know she likes school.

I listened on as the parents continued talking about stuff their kids were going through--you know, phase stuff. Apparently, these kids never stop with their phases. They're in a phase, going through a phase, just getting out of a phase...

It's beginning to sound like an excuse to explain the unexplainable. In the meantime, though, I'm hoping that Tali's dropoff troubles are short term and that they'll fall away once she's used to the colder weather, darker mornings, and unaligned planets, and that she gets through quickly whatever she's going through now.

And let's please hope that she doesn't blame me for the rest of her life for being a middle child...

how facebook has turned my life into a serial novella...

The social app Facebook seriously brings out the worst in me. Since I joined Facebook, I've had a totally conflicted and bipolar relationship with the site, and I've been obsessed from the start.

Which is the result the developers were probably hoping for.

But the reasons I'm addicted to FB are similar to the reasons why I comb through the front photo section of People magazine while waiting in line at the supermarket. Or why I read those juicy Phillipa Gregory novels in one or two sittings, eschewing sleep or reason.

FB is incredibly entertaining. I used to rationalize that is was a useful networking tool and that my time spent on it would be somewhat valuable.

When I joined, I added everyone I knew and then wasted countless hours combing networks for not only people in my life who I wish I had more time to keep in touch with, but also those people I'd lost touch with over the years. It was so exciting to meet up with people I never expected to talk to again, like my first best friend from Huntington Beach who lived a few doors down from us, but then I moved away when we were eight and you know how those things go. And how great to catch up with friends from high school, college, or various other periods of my past who I'd completely lost over time. And then how completely odd to see their profile albums filled with kids and spouses and completely new lives. It's like finding a forgotten chapter to your favorite serial novel.

But then there were the odd events. At first when I got the email apology from a college boyfriend who'd dropped me like a hot potato for seemingly no reason, I felt totally redeemed. What a completely civilized world this was to receive an apology from a guy who'd hurt me more than fifteen years ago, and then could apologize rather articulately about it once he'd grown up. We became "friends" again.

Here is a relationship that in our modern world rarely exists, and probably would not naturally exist without a social network like Facebook. It's absolutely exciting to to be able to find anyone again so easily.

But what do I do with this? I'm a mother of three, married, barely balancing work and life and the purgatory that is my laundry pile. How the hell am I supposed to balance 203 friends on Facebook?

Now granted, FB gives me a chance to keep up with friends that I don't have time to see. I know when Kim needs a run, when Ben has shot too many Nerf arrows at his mom, and I get to see all the political musings of my friends in their status reports. I check all of these WAY TOO OFTEN. And with cool little mobile apps, I can post photos and my own status reports to my own profile whenever I want. In fact, there have been days when I've had FB in the back of my mind all day long. I find myself thinking about how I can turn funny things that happen throughout the day into FB status statements. I wonder who has updated their own profiles.

In fact, I'm wondering right now if anyone has posted any new photos...

I've been a proud abstainer of Twitter because with the blog, I feel like I spend too much time thinking about my status, but FB seriously has stepped in where Twitter has been pushed out. And I gave up Second Life (yeah, I really don't want to talk about how lame I am so hush up now) because it seriously sucked up hours of my life and spit them out into the ethers.

So now I have to figure out how to control Facebook, especially since it's got too tight a hold on me now to give up completely. I need to control my Facebook Addiction. My name is Amy and I'm addicted to Facebook.

Facebook has also introduced new social dilemmas into our life networks (one of which includes using the term "life networks"). For example, I found an old college friend through search during a massive procrastination session. There were a few people in the results with his exact name, but while looking through his friend list, I recognized a mutual friend so I added him as my friend.

A couple of days later, he accepted my friend request. Woohoo! But when I looked at his profile photo, I saw that he looked very different. He'd gained weight and his hair color had lightened and his eyes had gone blue. He was now single and living in another country. He had glasses now and his childrens' names had changed. Oh wait... Hmmm...

So what do I do now? How do I break up with this friend who really isn't my friend?

I even find myself following his status reports. He enjoyed his vacation, his kids are doing well, enjoying school. But um, I don't know this guy from Adam. Is it completely rude to delete his friend status? Will he be offended?

I foresee future studies and seminars about managing your Facebook accounts in the same way they exist for managing your Outlook boxes. Set aside a certain time of day, only allow yourself an allotted amount of time, schedule some Facebook time on your calendar, etc.

Not a bad idea... But I wonder what Dan and Becky are doing right now...

yes we carve... our barack o'lantern

wordless wednesday...

who would you invite to your election party?

Samuel and I were talking about who we'd invite over to watch the election results with us since Boaz is leaving for China on business that day (and it is really probably best for him not to follow every single announced result) and Sam came up with the following list.

1. His friend Max. Because he's his friend.
2. Anakin Skywalker. Because he's cool.
3. R2D2. Because he's cool, too, and wouldn't it be cool to have a droid at our house on election day?
4. Barak Obama.

"I think maybe Barak Obama might be a little busy on election day," I tell him. "I'm not sure he'd be able to make it. But why do you think he should come over?"

"Because he makes peace and that's a good thing to have around," he tells me. "Plus, I think he'll be in a good mood that night."

Let's just hope...

another day, another milestone... naomi gets a haircut!

Finally, at almost two and a half, Naomi has gotten her first haircut. I think I was scared to take the plunge and take a scissors to her curls because I was terrified they wouldn't come back. And everyone knows that the minute you cut your baby's hair, they no longer look so much like a baby anymore.

And she's my baby...

But things were getting bad. The girl REFUSES to keep barrettes or piggytails in her hair and is always frustrated with getting her hair in her eyes. (You would think that logic would work here, but apparently that comes later...) And then incredibly, after her haircut today, Naomi still has her curls! And she's got herself a lot of 'em.

Here's the before pic... Note that her pigtails that she kept in all day (of course) at preschool were just taken out.

Cute girl, lots of baby hair...

The difference with taking a two year old for their first haircut instead of a ten month old is that they actually WANT the haircut. I'd told her this morning that she was going to have one after school and when I went to pick her up a little early, her teacher knew that today was the big haircut day. (Um, is she my girl, or what?)

"Mama, I want 'parkleys," Naomi said when we sat her down in her yellow taxi cab chair. She'd witnessed enough haircuts to know that at the end, her big sister's hair was always sprayed with gold sparkles.

"That's not until the end," I told her.

"Mama, make sure I get 'parkleys."

At the end, she got her sparkles...

Her hair doesn't look really look any shorter, just neater (and sparklier, too). In the spirit of saving money, I wonder if I could've done that myself... But I got to take home a photo commemorating the first haircut, along with a little baggy of curls to seal the deal.

And I also had a very happy, sparkly girl who discovered a ginormous stuffed and apparently napping Elmo (talk about freaky) in the adjoining toy store. We seriously had to bribe her to get her to walk away from it.

a typical pre-bedtime hour phone conversation...

Me: Can you run in the morning? Tali... Stop drawing on your brother's shirt!

RunnerFriend: Yeah, let's go early. Will that work? Hey you guys, stop splashing!

Me: No!

RF: You can't go early?

Me: No, Tali, you're done with pens tonight. Yes, that's right.

RF: You can or can't go in the morning?

Me: I can go in the morning. How was your day?

RF: Great. Hey, what you guys doing? Get back in the tub!

Me: Are you talking to me? Naomi, put that pen down. Who left that pen out?

RF: Oh my gosh, what is that?! Hey, who pooped in the tub? Gotta go...

Me (running the tub): He what?!
----------------
Boaz: What's new with those guys?

Me: No idea...

moveon.org's newest video campaign is not so funny...

I suppose that the intent of MoveOn.Org's newest video blaming you individually for Obama's (hopefully) fictional loss by your nonvote is to be as scary as someone who believes their vote doesn't count. However, I found it totally disturbing and upsetting.

And it did get my attention...

Maybe the second time around I saw a little humour in it.

Boy, I'd hate to be that person who gets blamed for not Baracking the vote.



Send it to your friends and freak them out by personalizing it with their names... This should help get out the vote.

these boots were made for walking...

wordless wednesday...

left my heart in san francisco...

It's been less than 48 hours and already the girl trip to SF seems like a lifetime ago. It was amazing and went by so incredibly quickly. Partly it was because our schedule was jam packed with activities, both wedding and on our own agenda, but we basically squeezed every moment into our solo weekend.

The weekend started out on the right note when we bumped ourselves up to first class on Virgin America. It was my first first class flight (hey, it's a total waste to fly so spectacularly with all those kids!) and it was impressive. The airline has moodlighting and these cool monitors with movies, tv, games, and a chat program where you can chat with other passengers. Oh, and the free drinks, meals, and seat massages were also quite nice. Also, you can tell from the pic below that Kim especially loved the reading lights because they looked like karaoke microphones and you KNOW that she had to totally hold herself back from belting out some Fergie tunes.

The big bummer, though, was that my monitor didn't work and while I was content to read my Phillipa Gregory Victorian soap opera, it was disappointing to not use all their cool toys. Especially when I really, really, really love cool toys. Also, the airline did a spectacularly poor job of compensating me (a handful of drink tix for the way home, but only allowed to use one per flight (huh?). It's such shame when a perfectly good company totally slacks on customer service.

But I digress... Because the rest of the weekend was absolutely delish. SF is so incredibly cool and beautiful and the weather was lovely. We checked into the Warwick, which was tiny, but beautiful and quaint in that SF way and then checked out the Nike Women's Race booths at Union Square. Kim ran this a few years ago, but all the excitement and hubbub in the square made me sorry we weren't running it this year. But then I got over it when I remembered that we'd have to go to bed early and not hang out in the bars. Next year.

We probably should've skipped the bars, though, because that night we headed down to North Beach, which is where B and I used to live and hang out. I had such good times there, but apparently that is the place to hang out when you're 24, as we were, because when we were carded at the door of one place, I looked at the guy, who looked about twelve and said, "Really?" We were ready to be flattered.

"How old do you think we are?" Kim asked.

"Um," he thought for a minute. "Definitely not more than 34."

Hmmm, was it all that necessary to card us? Turns out that the guy was born in '85--old enough to be our kid if we'd gone the path of Bristol Pallin, and that everyone else in the bar was about his age. Except for the kid who brought his grandparents out that night.

---------------------------------------

The next day we got decked out for J&J's nuptials.

"Um, what are you wearing under your dress?" Kim asked as we were getting ready. "It's totally see-through."

And here's where travelling with your friend is a absolute bonus. Because I'd only brought one dress, she ran out as the stores were opening and went to two stores to pick up the perfect half-slip. A person couldn't wish for a better travelling companion! While she was gone, I grabbed some huge bagels with lox, capers, and carmelized onions to eat in the car on the way up to Santa Rosa for the wedding. We'll remember them always since they leaked onto Kim's purse and left it smelling rather fishy... Oops.

The wedding was lovely--the setting, the friends and family, the ceremony... It was so Jessica and Jackie, and their happiness just filled the celebration. Plus, it was so great FINALLY meeing Mr. Ezra.

But the greatest part of the weekend was seriously being in charge of our own schedules. For once. We ate when we wanted to, shopped when and where we wanted to (and often under the influence of a cocktail or two), and slept through the night ENTIRE night. We took care of ourselves and recharged by dining on sushi and sake, and the next day on massively huge Mission burritos (which were as good as anticipated).

Having never really indulged in a girl weekend before (seriously, what is wrong with me?!), I am now a true believer. There's not much better than spending time with a good friend with the same goals (recharge, relax, boots) and needs (sleep, eat, boots). And while it was wonderful to get home to our adorable passel of wiggly kids and hand out the surprises we'd brought them, I think our trip to SF is going to have to be an annual event. Josh and Boaz, you guys don't mind, right? Right?

And did I mention the boots?

taking off to san francisco...

This morning I'm getting on a plane to San Francisco to go to my friends' Jessica and Jackie's wedding. I will be bringing one carryon, my trashy novel that I can't put down (and also whose title I am not quite sure I can admit to), and my friend Kim, who so unselfishly volunteered to come with me when Boaz and I realized that it was really hard for the both of us to skip town and leave three kids behind for two nights.

I will not be bringing the kids, their things including boosters, the carseat, diapers and wipes, a pack and play, or my computer. Or Boaz, who I'm sad to not bring along since San Francisco is really where we met (at least if you ask him).

A girl's weekend is definitely in order. We've been scheming and plotting this trip for months and now I cannot believe that it's tomorrow. We've talked about the restaurants we'll go to, sights we'll see, drinks we'll have, shopping we'll do, and I'm especially excited about having some time to re-explore my old stomping grounds and see wonderful old friends.

But hearing my kids sound nervous about me leaving sets me a bit on edge. Samuel's been counting down this entire past week.
"This is the third to last night I'll say goodnight to you before you go to San Francisco," he told me earlier in the week as I was tucking him in.

"Two nights," I told him, "and one of those nights you're having a sleepover with a friend."

"But you won't be home," he said dramatically. "I wouldn't miss you if I knew you were home." I know it was all for my benefit--it was that "I will torture you because I love you" syndrome.

But now I feel nervous, too. Pathetically, this is really only the second time I've left all three of them (and in the loving, able hands of their father, but that fact really doesn't stop one's imagination from running amok). I'm sure they'll be fine, but it seriously is a bit physically painful to leave them.

I guess that's what motherhood is about... You can't even anticipate a decadent weekend with a girlfriend without being bogged down about what's going on at home.

That said, I'm sure that after the first five minutes in the airport where I'm not racing to my gate, holding a kid on my hip, lugging three bags and my boarding passes in hand, late because we left someone's shoe in the security tray and had to go back... I'm sure after not doing that, I'll be just fine.

And then I think a vodka and soda on the plane will help a bit, too. And also the shopping, and the museums, and the Mission burritos, and Italian food in North Beach and those fresh biscotti, and the music, and the hotel where I can sleep all night without waking up...

See you on Sunday!

sukkot meets wheel of fortune...

After two very cold and rainy days of Sukkot, and only being able to eat dinner in our Sukkah one and a half times, the kids are headed back to school tomorrow for what's left of the school week. And though Tali came home from school sick on Monday night, Samuel got it on Tuesday, and Naomi has continued with her runny nose and cough since October started, we've really enjoyed the holiday. Yesterday we decorated our sukkah with waterproof decorations because the kids decided they didn't want to work hard on art and then have it ruined in the rain, EVEN if that concept seems to go with the whole temporary nature of Sukkot.

But then we decided a la Seattle to make waterproof decorations... We hung fabric leaves from the roof rafters and walls and strung lights to brighten up the dark afternoons. And then decorated the table with the pumpkins we got from the pumpkin patch last Sunday, even though we never got around to carving out the harvest themes we'd designed for them in my Martha Stewart does Sukkot fantasies.

Still, it's very festive and fun inside, though despite the fact that we've been making sure our meals are very hot and warming, even the kids can barely stand to be out there for dinner too long, let alone sleep in it. But we look at it a lot through the rain from the window...

Maybe it's a good thing I took the sukkah camping with us this summer--the weather sure was better.

And today we got out of the house and went to the Science Museum, which is usually packed, but of course was empty today, save for a motley crew of a bunch of toddlers and their worn out parents (oh, that does include us).

The kids and their friends were thrilled to get to take part in a science game show about bipeds and for once, when Samuel raised his hand to volunteer, he was actually chosen. Though, I think the poor guy running the show was thinking that his pickings were slim considering the audience consisted of me and my kids, my friend Julie and her kids (exact same ages as my kids), a very spirited old guy in the corner who seemed to have some limited mental capacity, a two year old and his grandma, and a very old woman in a wheelchair.

The show was a quiz show and more entertaining because every two contestants were as oddly matched as possible.

Here is Samuel against Isaac. They're the most evenly matched even though Samuel is three years older. Note that Naomi climbed up on stage and as I was about to pull her down, Julie whispered to me, "Hey, what does it matter since nobody else is here?" So I let her stay.

Here is Shira celebrating her triumph over two year old Benjamin, who doesn't understand he is supposed to sit on his yellow stool. The Science Center guy is asking him to please not touch the spinner wheel.

Tali competed against Benjamin's grandma. It was a tough round, but luckily, the old guy in the corner was very spirited and shouted out the answers for both teams. Benjamin's grandma is thinking that maybe the answer to Science Guy's question is still up on the screen. It wasn't.

And then we got home just in time for it to start to rain again before dinner. No meal in the sukkah tonight. We'll try breakfast again tomorrow morning...

naomi wistfully watches tali's dance class from the lobby...

wordless wednesday...

7 miles high...

Today Kim and I went for our 7 mile run and while she's run a marathon, 7 miles is pretty much my record distance. But let me tell you, there is something so amazing about adding distance to our runs. I was terrified when we started out because...

a. It's been a a couple of days since our last run.
b. Have I mentioned that I've never run more than 6 miles before?
c. I still haven't started thinking of myself as a runner, though at this point, I've been running regularly for a year now.
c. I was going to try out my new "hydration belt" on this run and was nervous about the extra weight. For those of you not in the running know, a hydration belt is this incredibly geeky velcro thing you wrap around your waist (yes, like a belt) and it holds water bottles. It's fine when your bottles are full and heavy, but after you take a few sips, the water sloshes around while you run and the noise is totally annoying because oddly, it makes me have to pee. But the bottles do have this really cool shape that makes it easy to drink while running.
d. Halfway through our run, we were going to try out this energy stuff called Gu, that you suck down while running.

So I got past all the hurdles fairly gracefully, except the Gu one.
Kim handed me this little pack and told me to suck it down while we continued to run, and then to wash it down with some water. Still, while running. For someone not particularly graceful, this was hard enough.

But have you ever tasted Gu? It's as disgusting as it sounds. It is flavored Roctane gel--in this case, it was vanilla bean. Vanilla bean gel. And what the hell is Roctane, anyway?

And so as I squeezed that little tube into my mouth, I gagged and shouted and swallowed as quickly as I could. And apparently I had a few onlookers laughing at the sight of me shouting and retching because Kim couldn't stop laughing.

And, in memory of the taste, I even gagged while looking at the hero graphic on their website of those guys with their Gu packets hanging out of their mouths.

But that disgusting goo was amazing since it did give me the energy to make the run seem like something I could keep going with. Which is good, since somehow I have to add six more miles to my run by the end of November.

And if anyone has any other energy supplement suggestions that are a bit more palatable than Gu, I'd love to hear about them...

10 signs it's time to go back to work...

10. You're starting to read into the dark undertones of the "I'm a Little Teapot" song, especially when accompanied by the cute dance gestures.

9. You've organized and cleaned out all of the closets in the house. Twice.

8. You find yourself noticing sexual references (intentional or not, you decide) in episodes of Sesame Street and then giggle throughout the entire show.

7. Your friends have to remind you not to refer to the restroom as the "potty" or to say "bye-bye" instead of "goodbye" when you're out with adults.

6. You think that the time your two-year old said "Mama Say" instead of "Namaste" when you were "playing" yoga was so funny that you not only told everyone about it, but started whispering "Mama Say" to yourself at the end of your yoga class.

5. You have the same haircut as your five-year old.

4. You get excited about a trip to Toys R Us.

3. You've developed a taste for butter. On everything.

2. Potty talk is starting to seem pretty funny, instead of disgusting and juvenile.

1. Your toddler has begun to respond to what she believes is your constant nagging with "Relax, Mama..."

a good sign that my daughter needs a pet...

not so wordless wednesday...

a lesson in listening to the second kid...

Today Talia's class took their first Kindergarten field trip to the pumpkin patch to learn about Fall harvests. We'd gotten instructions last week to pack her a sack lunch and to make sure she wore rain boots and warm clothes because most likely the patch would be cold and muddy (it was).

So I dug out her boots that still fit from last year and handed her a brown paper sack and some markers and let her color all over it while I made lunches. This is something she's watched Samuel do a

number of times and in the past, it always made her feel a little jealous to see him working so hard on his field trip lunch sack.

Tali decorated her bag with her name in big letters, lots of flowers, and the big-eyed people she likes to draw. But when she was finished, she told me that she didn't want to go on the trip.

"Really?" I asked. "It sounds like fun. Plus you get to pick out your own little pumpkin," I told her.

"Yeah, but it'll be muddy. I don't want to go," she said. This seemed odd because Tali isn't the kind of girl who usually minds some mud, but I had three lunches to make, mountains of laundry to fold, baths to give, kids to put to bed, blah blah blah.

"You'll love it," I told her. "You'll have fun."

This morning, same thing. She didn't want to go, it'll be too muddy, it won't be fun, and she kept singing the same tune even after Samuel showed a significant amount of envy at the fact that she got to go on a field trip. I dropped her off in her classroom with her booster seat freshly marked with her name, and as I kissed her goodbye, I whispered to her, "It's going to be great. You'll have a great time."

"If you say so," she said with uncertainty. But she didn't cry or make a fuss, so I waved goodbye and left.

As I got into my car, a friend of mine whose son is in Tali's class waved to me and said "Wow, their first field trip. I don't know why I feel so nervous, but it feels big."

"They're fine," I reassured her. "They'll have fun." And what I was secretly thinking was "Come on... It's just a 20 minute drive to the pumpkin patch. Cut the cord, girlfriend!"

And then as I was driving out of the schoolyard I realized what was up--that this was her very, very first school field trip and of course she was nervous. She was a school kid on a school trip. With her school. Not her parents. Or even her daycare.

I felt like such a total tool. She was scared.

Even though she's known some of her friends for years and she's been around the school for years, as well, while picking up or dropping off Samuel, this was new to her. I didn't shed a single tear on her first day of Kindergarten because we'd been through the whole process just a few years ago with Samuel, but this morning after dropping her off, I sobbed all the way home as I thought about my girl feeling fearful and anxious, but not being able to or knowing how to talk about it. I felt guilty about overlooking some of her big moments because we've been there before with her brother. And I felt sad that I'd been too preoccupied with the minutiae of the day that I didn't stop to wonder why she was acting so strangely.

Of course, by the time I picked her up she was gushing about how much fun she'd had and she couldn't wait to show me her special green pumpkin (my girl is not one to follow popular conventions).

I feel like I got a pass this time for not noticing how quickly Tali is growing up. And while I will probably never be one of those moms who puts together a scrapbook for every life event (hell, I still haven't put together my wedding album), I am determined to slow down a little and listen a little more closely.

Oh, and the photos? Taken by one of the moms who obviously felt like the first school field trip was a big deal. I'm so grateful...

a story about my love for red shoes...

I will not write about her, I just won't do it. Everyone and their mother and their mother's mother is going to write about the debate and I want to write about my new running shoes.



So I won't write about how many times in an hour and a half she used the phrases "Darn right" or "Maverick" (but boy, I got chills when Biden chided her about how 'Maverick' wasn't quite the right word to use). I won't ask what a Joe Six Pack is, say that I feel truly squeamishly uncomfortable when she talks about Israel and middle east politics, or say that when it comes down to it, I really just don't think she's up to the job.



And um, did anyone else get all choked up when Biden talked about being a single parent?



Right. Red shoes. And even better, red running shoes.



So today, in all my frustration and anxiety over the impending vice presidential debate, I took an hour and ran to RoadRunner sports to buy some new running shoes and to register for the Seattle Marathon, because I'm going to run it this year.



Didn't that sound cool? I hope it did because I'm not sure my behavior in the store qualified as cool. Also, it should be known that I'm really running the Seattle HALF Marathon (though, hey, that is still 13 miles!), I've never run that far in my life, and I have serious doubts about whether or not I can actually do it. But I paid my registration fee so I have six hours in November to try.



So I went in knowing that I should buy the same Asics that I love and wear and when I got into the store, there they were in the same turquoise and silvery stripes I have at home.



I love shoes, but seriously, runners are so incredibly boring and if they didn't feel so heavenly on that first run when they're brand spanking new, and if they didn't feel so horrible when they're worn out, I would probably just ignore them altogether.



"Hey," I say to the salesguy, who is really young and goodlooking. "Do these come in any other colors?"



"You want a different color?" He asks. "Why?"



"I don't know," I say. "To make them interesting?"



"It makes no difference what color they are. This shoe would run the same no matter the color." He seems almost offended at my superficiality. "Why do you need another color? Do you look at them when you're running or something?"



"Sometimes," I say. And when I notice his odd look, I laugh a little and say, "Just kidding." But we both know that I am not.



So I buy the world's most boring and comfortable runner and walk out the door, and then decide to just take a look at the Title Nine store on the corner.



And do you know what they had? Of course you do...



My fave Asics, style 2130. In CHERRY RED. I seriously have a weakness for red shoes. Even red running shoes.



They were beautiful. And you know what Title Nine calls them? They call them Meg's Favorite Shoe because obviously someone else loves them, too. In red.



So I run back to the first store, meet the salesguy at the register, and tell him that I want to return my shoes.



"You just bought them," he says.



"I know," I tell him. And then I find that I just cannot tell him that I found a better color. I'm too embarrassed that he thinks I watch my feet while I run. "I just talked to my friend," I tell him instead. "She says she found a better deal somewhere else."



"Really?" he says suspiciously. "Where?"



"Um, I don't know, really. Some warehouse somewhere," I lie badly.



He give me the stink eye and says, "A warehouse, huh? You know, if it were true, I'd match your price."



"Huh," I say lamely. "I hope it is." And then I slink off as quickly as possible, run down the street and buy my cool red runners that cost $10 more than the boring turquoise ones.



And then I went home, put them on, and went for a really hard run. And you know what? My feet looked cool while they ran.

a little wordless wednesday on thursday, but not so wordless...

Thanks for the posts and emails of support and empathy for my trials and tribulations of life with the twos. This evening while I was making dinner, I gave Naomi some bowls and "ingredients" to cook, too.

Can you tell she's testing me? Luckily, I think she's adorable.

But I did pull out the the timer and wondered out loud how fast she could get the Os and raisins back into one bowl. The kid has no concept of time, but she's always up for a challenge!

Also, she really likes that dinger on the timer.

Not So Wordless Thursday...