Another birthday for Kyle

Hmmm, I wanted to use a baby photo of my baby for his 29th, and this awkward shot is the oldest photo of him on this computer. Awkward because he's not quite kissing Ellie's head, but it's the thought that counts.

And that's kinda why I love this guy so much. He is always thinking about what other people may be thinking, and trying to make them more comfortable, encouraged, appreciated, what have you. At least that's the effect he's had on me.

As a typical young-mom-in-a-frenzy, I seem to often be searching for validation and further appreciation for the sacrifices I make. And then I think, what about Kyle? Who appreciates him for having to appreciate me and my whiny self? I appreciate you, Kyle! And now we come full circle and he needs to start appreciating me again. What I'm trying to say, in my own convoluted way, is how happy I am to be stuck with this man forever.

He is golden. It is a very good thing to be loved, but to be loved by someone like him is the best life can get. That's the gospel truth.

Running a 5k...

... requires so little skill that it may be even embarrassing to the truly fit, like my marathoning baby sis and big bro. For me, however, it was a grave and menacing task, and before it began I honestly wasn't sure if I was going to make it. This was the Rex Lee Run for cancer (wait, against cancer!) so I did it in honor of Ma, and imagining her face and her current battle was what pushed me through. I made Kyle (who had never run further than a mile in his earthly existence) run with me because he is the only person I know who wouldn't be too ashamed to stick by my side.

Mish had better things to run than a 5k. She ran the 10k and then turned around and ran another 13 miles with Mark for their marathon training. Crazy/awesome/crazy kid.

Kyle was so bored running with me (and I use the term "running" loosely, as walkers did tend to pass us) so he took a lot of action shots.




(side note: Kyle may have been running circles around me while carrying on a one-sided conversation --I wasn't about to waste lung space by forming words-- but whaddya know? The next few days his muscles were all achy and complainy while mine fared just fine. He may be effortlessly in much better shape than me endurance- wise, but all that sitting on his toosh over a computer while I bend, lift, and scurry about all day gives me a serious edge on muscle activity. So I feel slightly vindicated over the injustice of his effortless, high-capacity lungs.)

He was so excited when, in the very last stretch, Kyle saw his friend David and his wife Emily catching up to us and was thrilled to beat him and rub that in his face forever (although they could potentially rub in our face that they ran 10k in the time it took us to run five).

During that last lap around the track, the crowd was cheering (and jeering) me to sprint, and I thought, "I am! Can't you tell?" Those three point something miles kicked my trash.

I hadn't run any distance (longer than across my living room to prevent one child from injuring another) since the 5ks of my pre-Kyle college days. Cathi would run for the workout, Miche would run for a free t-shirt (free minus the participation fee), and I would run for Africa. I think we only ever ran 5ks for Africa. That's about all that could inspire physical exertion out of me. And now Ma.


The next day, I woke up to Charlie retching all over my clothes, bed, and hair, and as I was mopping it up with my bed sheet, Erik waddled into my room looking a little like this.

Which led me to his bed, the real scene of carnage. Not sure how he slept soundly through so much blood loss, but the sight of all this made me laugh so hard I forgot I still had puke in my hair!

The next day, my beloved roommate of yesteryear, CathAnn, was in town and I finally got to meet her adorable son, Cathi Jr. Kallista was also part of the reunion, which included a visit to Cafe Rio (which is officially my favorite family eatery because free kids' quesadillas enable me to actually do something other than fret over the kids. Like eat. Or talk.) and lots of reminiscing the good old days. (Are we old enough to be saying that?)

In other unrelated news, you probably should not buy garlic at Costco unless you own a garlic-y flavored restaurant, or drink a lot of garlic juice, and/or suffer from a vampire infestation. I learned this the hard way, and ended up spending an evening (with some help from Bob and Kyle) in the following fashion...



Seriously that was such a painstaking process that wasn't at all worth whatever I saved by buying in bulk.

You thought I was kidding about the garlic juice, eh?

Yeah, I was. We have so much minced garlic now, we even put it in our cereal.

Ewww gross.

Woo hoo! Here's a whole streak of shots that don't require my ramblings.










Well, I was hoping to catch up to Easter, but I'm feeling the need to rest my weary bones, so that's all you get for tonight! (whew!)

I pity da fool!

So, last year I think I went a little mild on Kyle for April Fools' Day, if you recall. I hear from his Mom that he used to be a regular old prankster, even extending the holiday to April Fools' Month, but I have seen nothing of it in our long, tedious years of marriage. (joking, but just about the tedious part) Actually, as he scooped up his enchiladas for dinner, he did compliment them and suggested he would omit his usual generous coating of creole seasoning (because it tends to bother me). I was flattered, but "April Fools!" Yeah, I fell for it. But before that...

This afternoon I knocked on his door (Kyle works from home with a cold, claustrophobic, dimly-lit, occasionally arachnid-inhabited corner of our laundry room functioning as his office. Bless his little heart.) and asked him if he was sitting down. Then I asked him not to be upset and/or freak out, if possible.

Then I flashed a little bit of this


and then, through my nervous laughter, he laughed, cried, buried his face in his hands, refused to dance with me (although a great jazz song was playing), stared at the computer screen with a blank expression, and wondered aloud in exasperation, "How is this POSSIBLE?!"

I could've let it go on longer, but honestly I wasn't expecting him (the pranksta gangsta of former days, remember) to succumb to my trickery whatsoever, and I was starting to feel guilty about the immense range of negative emotions I was subjecting him to.

I subtly directed him toward the calendar, and then the gloating began. I'm still gloating, clearly. I am pleased as mmmm berry pie that those fourth grade acting lessons made themselves useful in today's performance (I was able to tear up a bit through my awkward giggles and attempts at comforting Kyle, although the sight of him might've made anyone cry). I was giddy with my success for most of the rest of the day, and for the record, Kyle was quite impressed (after being enormously relieved) and harbors no hard feelings.

I'd like to thank The Dollar Tree for providing the affordable prop that made this joke possible, as well as my very preggo friend M for donating her pee. And also I'd like to thank Kyle for not actually getting me pregnant.