Runner?

Recently queried about when I’d start running again, first I stammered, “Uh—.”  Then I whined about how hot it is here right now.  Not hot, so much as humid.  Ok, hot and humid.  

Check out the Wiki article on humidity.  As they point out in the article, we’re usually referring to “relative humidity” when we use that term.  The relative part refers to the different moisture capacity of the air at different temperatures.  The higher the temperatures, the higher the moisture capacity.  So 90% humidity at 75 degrees is much less water than 90% humidity at 80.6F/26C (our current conditions, down from 90F earlier—no, no rain).  Through some magical voodoo one can arrive at a heat index of 87F/30C for that data.  In other words, because there is 90% relative humidity right now, it *feels* like 87, even though it’s only 80.  Go figure.  

This is the kind of weather where I can walk very slowly out the door and begin dripping sweat before the door shuts behind me.  The kind of weather where I “dry off” after a shower, but I’m never really dry, just sort of less damp at some point several hours later.  

So, you can probably understand why the thought of physical exertion out there leads me to whine.  I find it hard to continue to whine, however, after my previous post, in which I extolled the bravery and fortitude of my middle child.  

I haven’t actually done any kind of running for a long time.  I generally refer to April—the Month of Endless Demon Virus—as my excuse for slacking off in the running.  But I haven’t actually run regularly since just after my race back at the beginning of March.  Since I only ran for a smidge over two months, and have NOT run for almost three months, I’m not sure it’s honest or fair to call myself a runner over there in the left-hand margin.  

I can honestly call myself most of those other things, knitter especially.  There has been a decent amount of knitting and knit-planning.  A fair amount of legoing.  Not so much writing.  That one I can blame on the running, but that is for another post.  

I’m disappointed in the lack of running.  I really liked the running.  My brain felt good.  My body felt good.  Ok, you know, not in the moments immediately after the running, but in the times in between the running, when I was sleeping better, feeling stronger, and generally having more energy and enthusiasm for things in general.  

So, what I should be doing right now is promising to me that I will start running again.

Tomorrow.  

When I think that though, at least a dozen excuses pop into my brain, most having to do with wet air and knitting.  

Valor

Somehow I managed to miss Sonar X5’s four year immunizations.  Not sure how, but considering how many childhood immunizations there are nowadays, and the certainty of springtime illnesses around here, I suppose it isn’t too surprising.  He must have them to enter kindergarten in the fall, so off we went to get him up to date.  

I believe in letting the kids prepare themselves for hard stuff such as this, so last night we were talking about shots, talking about what he would take with him to help him feel brave, answering his questions, and giving him detailed lessons in immunology.  

X5: Will I get them in the arm or the leg?  

Me:  You’re a big kid now.  Arm for sure. 

X5:  How many shots will there be?

Me:  (feeling uninformed) I can’t remember.  Not more than four.  Probably two or three. 

X5:  Shots hurt, but then it will be over with and I won’t have to think about it again for a while.

Me:  Right.

This morning he chose to bring along a small stuffed elephant, just right for squeezing one hand around the middle in a moment of pain or panic.  He was his usual self in preparation, except that he wanted to sit in my lap in the waiting room, much to Sonar X3’s chagrin.  

When we asked the doc how many shots there’d be, and she cheerfully answered Four at Four, I mentally kicked myself.  Sonar X5 shrugged nervously, wrinkled his nose and asked if they’d do two on each side.  :)  The doc left (aren’t they just cowards) and the nurse returned with the four syringes and Sonar X5 squeezed his elephant and rolled up his sleeves.  Even Sonar X3, who had been climbing and bouncing all over the waiting chair seemed to recognize the gravity of the situation and sat completely still, watching in silent horror as the nurse spread the implements of torture and four banana yellow bandaids around Sonar X5 on the table.  

I asked if he wanted to hold my hand (no), cautioned that he needed to be still, and joked that he shouldn’t kick or hit the nurse (she didn’t laugh).  She told him that if he moved and the needle came out, she’d have to poke him again.  He tersely nodded his understanding.  

With the first poke, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, maybe a small tear leaked out at the corner.  With the second poke, he took a deep breath, squeezing the elephant within an inch of its life.  Now the nurse was impressed.  She lavished praise for his bravery as she applied the banana yellow bandaids to the injection sites.  Pokes three and four followed in similar fashion.  Not a squeak.  Not a yelp or a twitch.  

He faced down each injection with a fierce kind of bravery, and when it was over, blew out a long slow breath, accepted with a tiny smile all of our praise and adoration and hugs and hair ruffling.  

The nurse wished that all kids were as good and brave as he was (we hoped the same for her), and that she was sure he would be her best patient all day.  

Both Sonars got stickers.  We popped into the grocery store for fresh bubble solution, luscious smelling strawberries (that were on sale!), a small watermelon, and  sherbet for a milkshake.  

We should all face our trials with such conviction, confidence, and fortitude.  Maybe it would help if we got bubbles and ice cream every time we had to do something hard.  :)

Transitions

The bloglessness of Alert the Pizza can be blamed on this Sexy New Beast—I mean, computer (SNB, for short).  It is the biggest, shiniest, fastest computer I have ever had.  It is also my first Mac.  A great deal of attention has been paid to figuring out where things are, how things are set up, how many music cd’s I can rip during one afternoon, and just how many scribbles the Sonars can cram into one KidPix screen.  

Already it has changed our lives.  We may give away the tv.  

We are still poking along on a dial-up connection, but tomorrow we will add a smokin’-fast internet connection worthy of the SNB.

In other news, seven pounds of very small tomatoes are currently undergoing transition into canned tomato sauce.  The whole house smells like a ketchup factory.  Heyyyyyy, speaking of ketchup.  That’s what I’ll have to do with the next seven pounds.  And yes, there are at least seven pounds of tomatoes out there.  Quite likely a lot more than that actually. 

Seven quarts of tomatoes went into today’s sauce (funny how it’s about a pound per quart).  They will result in seven pints of finished sauce.  One pint of edible-looking tiny tomatoes is going for at least $3 at our local grocery right now.  That makes today’s seven quarts worth at least $42.   (Does that seem crazy to anyone else?)  We paid just a few dollars for the six tomato plants that produced this seven pounds and at least ten other pounds earlier, and a good many many many pounds to come.

Of course, I could buy seven cans of tomato sauce for a dollar a pop.  So, $42 of fresh food can be turned into $7 worth of canned food.  (Does that seem crazy to anyone else?)

Gryffindor

Scarlet, KnitPicks Essentials
Gold, Bernat Sox

US Size 2 dpns
My basic sock recipe, worked over 56 stitches, with ribbed cuff and foot-top
Made for Sonar X7 for no reason except that he had no homemade socks that fit him anymore.

Mother's Day, Part 2: Make it Meaningful

Ileana noticed the business about mothers in the U.S. Congress this week.

Our government is, indeed, quite weird sometimes. Many of the strange things they do can be attributed to ceremony and tradition. Often the gestures they make are symbolic. Yep, we’re going to vote to have Mother’s Day this year, or Nurse’s Week, or a national symbol of some kind or other. But it’s not always even as simple as that.

Turns out Mother’s Day is even complicated.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/05/08/AR2008050802999.html

After unanimously voting in support of Mother’s Day, in a revote 178 Republicans voted against it. The move was blamed on “procedural shenanigans.” Uh huh.

Whether the House supports Mother’s Day or not, however, is really rather meaningless. It is merely a recognition (or not) of mothers. A holding up of a symbol, so that they can say they love moms and all they do. But it doesn’t carry any practical support that mothers can use. Take for instance the recent vote about fair wages for women, famously criticized by John McCain, who thinks we just need more training and experience and we’ll get the same pay. Yeah.

Or how about paid family leave, the promotion and protection of family-friendly work spaces, protection and encouragement of breastfeeding, fair and affordable healthcare?

A consortium of mothers called MomsRising is working to aggregate information and support of legislation that can practically, meaningfully, and substantially show support for mothers and families in the United States. Check out their mother’s day e-card for a synopsis of where they stand on Motherhood.

In that vapid little rag, Parade Magazine, this morning, Sarah Jessica Parker, who claims to want to be the world’s most fabulous mom, ahem, she points out that if you put a bunch of liberal moms in a room with a bunch of conservative moms, we’d all want basically the same things for our kids. Her penchant for shoes aside, I have to agree with the former Square Peg. Mothers and Fathers want and need to have the tools to raise healthy and successful families in the United States.

If any of this moves you, whether you’re a mother or not, share it with other moms and dads you know and consider subscribing to the MomsRising list. You’ll get notifications about petitions and movements in Congress. Kick those congressional representatives in the pants and help convince them to pack a little action with those words.