The Third Bandito

This past weekend the third Bandito (see him here, here and here) turned 2. Happy birthday Evan! 

Our clan of four spent the night in Athens on Friday [more on that later] and headed to Madison mid-day Saturday to partake in the celebration. We’ve learned what a party is, and we’ve learned we like what a party is. And we, as parents, hoped that the love of parties was enough to keep Cole and Grady happy during what should be naptime. Could have been great, but could just as easily turn into meltdown city in a hurry.

Thankfully the boys cooperated, and a good time was had by all. Aunt Angela and Uncle Ken decided on a racecar theme for the party. See how generous I am on this blog? Ken gets credit for picking the theme, too. Grammie gets credit for the cake.

While we waited for all the guests to arrive we entertained ourselves by playing with some of Cousin Evan’s toys. He had a really fun beach ball, and thankfully Grampie is a good ball throwing buddy. And he knows his colors, too.

 

 

And Grammie is an excellent snacktime conversationalist. She’ll even go get your food for you and bring it to you as you lounge on the couch.

Once all the guests arrived, it was time for party hats. Evan got his on and did a little dance.

And Cole, under the supervision of Miss Amanda, got his on as well. Here Cole is giving Amanda what I call the forehead hug. The kid loves rubbing his forehead against other people’s. He is rather different, I agree. You might recall that Grady monopolized Amanda at the boys' bday party, but this day Cole claimed her attention as his. Grady looked on after he made it very clear that he did not want to wear the hat.

 

  What? You want a better picture of that cute cupie face? Ok.

Alrighty, enough self indulgence, lets’ get back to the birthday boy. He did a great job blowing out his candles.

Then, with the help of some older party attendees the kids went at the racecar shaped pinata. Amanda's brothers Adam and Alex helped.

And that help was needed, because Cole and Evan did their best, but didn't put any type of dent in the pinata.There may have been a skirmish over yellow bat possesion between the second and third banditos, but Aunt Angela did a fine job refereeing. 

Seeing that it was a birthday party, there was some present opening. Dada was in charge of the camera at this point, and all we have to document that part of the party was not the presents, but Grady chilling with his GG. A while back we all decided that we would call Keith's mom Grammie. We had been calling her Gran GG for a while, but decided Grammie would just be easy. Grady objects, and still calls her GG. He won't be told what to do!

The picture below is too funny not to include, sorry Amanda! The look you see on Amanda's face is Cole & Grady's kryptonite. They laugh hysterically when she does this, and I think its part of the reason they are so attached to her. If only we could move closer to Camp Keller, I feel like we'd have an excellent babysitter on our hands.

Remember how I was worried about the boys not napping and being cranky? Turns out they did just fine for the party, but Keith and I have witness many a skipped nap that resulted in a hellish drive home. So saying that we were apprehensive about the drive home is an understatement. And Grady did give us a good 5 minutes of grumbling and wailing, and prompty fell asleep. Score! Cole fell asleep a few minutes later, leaving me and Keith to drive to our next stop in a cake and ice cream induced haze.

Front Door to Car Door

Some mornings all is right in the world, and no one gets pissy and everyone does just what Momma asks. And then other mornings, things are different. We just don't get anything done quickly.  The process of getting out the front door to the car, for example, can pass a good 15-20 minutes. This morning it certainly did.

The boys started back at Parents Morning Out and they are loving it. Grady wakes up every morning asking for Ms. Jejica [Jessica], their teacher. So when I finally had them fed, dressed, and had their wily hair somewhat under control and defrizzed,  I said it was time to go see Ms. Jessica. He banged on the door to get me to open it, and ran to the car, all the while yelling JEJICA, JEJICA. Passerby's might have thought he was being chased he moved that quickly. When he got to the car, he turned and yelled for Cole.

Cole was not as quick to get moving and also wanted to carry their bag. Super. This won't take much time at all. 

5 minutes later Cole was down the three steps, but took a few moments just to gaze up. I suppose he was soaking up the sun and the glorious flowering trees. 

His brother was not being as reflective and instead started digging through my errand bag and purse. I got to him before he had the chance to scatter the contents of my purse all over the driveway. He found my work badge and had a good chuckle at it. Don't laugh, Grady. Those cameras at work they use for ID photos make everyone look funny.

Ok. Now, back to Cole. He did make his way down the walkway, but is now engrossed in the embroidery detail of the bag. We've had the bag since before they were born [thanks Kellers!], and he's carried that thing several times a week, but he just had to spend some more time now to look at the tractors. Now.

At this point we're at least next to the car and I was feeling optimistic that we would leave in the next 5 minutes. Then a big truck drove by and we had to stop and stare and discuss. OOOH, BIG TRUCK. BIG TRUCK!

And no activity is complete without this.

He wanted the keys, but unfortunately for him, I need those to drive. Sorry little man.

At this point I've got them close enough to the car that I can grab and buckle in without too much problem. If you grab one, and the other is far away from the car, that kid will bolt! They think it's hysterical to go running into the neighbor's house. The strapped in kid even cheers for the other. It'd be obnoxious if it weren't so funny. If both are close to the car, you can strap one in, and pin the other to the car with your legs. HA! Try running now, Monkey.

Anyway, we got strapped in, and headed to PMO. I then ran some errands and went to work. Along the way, I found me some wabbits. 

And don't even ask me about getting from the car to the front door after PMO. That involves two tired boys and a lot of bribes and promises of applesauce and yogurt. More on those effective parenting techniques some other time.

Ambition is Our Middle Name

I don't know if we're ambitious, or if we just don't have any sense, because Karen and I signed up for the ING Georgia Half marathon in Atlanta on March 27.

The errand I mentioned in yesterday’s blog was a trip to the Georgia Dome to pick up my and Karen’s race t-shirt, microchip for our shoes, race bibs and other random things. I like that you have to pick the packed up in person, because it gives you a chance to scope out the competition. I’m not pretending that I’ll win any races, but I like to size people up and then decide if I could beat them or not. Even if it’s all hypothetical, because I'll probably not recognize anyone the next day during the race. So that’s what I did Saturday.

Sunday morning Karen and I were up at 5:45 to catch MARTA to the start line. My initial thoughts were to take lots of pictures, and despite the early hour I did manage to get a few in. Here we are, walking through the parking lot to the train.

Now waiting for the train. A little nervous, a little excited. I may or may not have questioned my decision to run this race at this point.

Once we got downtown, it was close to the race start time but we decided [for obvious reasons] to get in line for the porta potties. The line was long, but moved quickly. You probably don’t need any more details on the porta potties, but this pit stop was important because we had to run to get to the start line. 

And now a little background is needed. When you sign up for a race that is competitive, with prizes for the good runners, you have to tell them your estimated race time. The race organizers use this race time to lump you with other runners who run at that pace, and you all start in the same corral. The “elite” runners are in Corral A, and the slowest of slows are way in the back. I think that was corral M for this race. The idea here is that the fastest runners aren’t then held back by slow-moving traffic, and slow movers don’t have fast runners bobbing and weaving around them.

Back to the porta potties.  We do our business and we realize we have about a minute to get into the corral. We were looking for our corral [I can’t remember our letters, Karen, can you help me out?], but weren’t sure where to go. We found the other racers, all 15,998 of them, and squeezed through the barrier to get ready to run. Next thing you know, the race has started, and the crowd slowly starts shuffling ahead. As we approached the start line I started looking around and realized we were in corral D. Oh Shi*t. Here we are, approaching the start. 

These people were gonna run fast, and we were not. Once we passed under the start line and the crowd started running, Karen and I did our best to stay to the side as people sprinted past us. Some people were genuinely [seemingly] in good shape and probably ran the entire 13.1 or 26.2 miles at that speed. But some seriously big butts came barreling past us, and I would love to know if they maintained that same pace the whole race. I think not. We did get a comment or two from some fast runners who did not appreciate us "holding them up". So sorry to those folks, I'd feel bad about being an obstacle, but none of the complainers were in the running for first place, so I would have preferred they just keep running and keep quiet.

Karen and I did great, we maintained a steady pace the entire race. We had one more porta pottie pitstop at about mile 7.5, but otherwise ran the whole thing. I don’t remember the entire race, but here are a few thoughts that crossed my mind at some point or another.

The race started in downtown Atlanta. I wonder what the homeless people thought when 16,000 people came sprinting past them before sun-up. They must have thought we were crazy.

The marathon course starts with the half course, and then splits off again, and then joins again, then splits off, and we all finish together. When we passed mile 8.5 or so the winner of the full marathon lapped us. I think he was on mile 18 or 19? He was full out sprinting, and that is really the most impressive display of athleticism I’ve seen in person. When he passed us I did feel a little extra spring in my step. Then I remembered that I’m no Kenyan, and I went back to my shuffle/jog.

The guy dressed as a caveman at the cheering station at Mile 4 was hysterical. I don’t know who you are, but you kept me giggling for several miles. So did the very hung over guy at Mile 8 who was pouring himself a Miller Lite.

My sister is the only person I know that “feels bad about throwing down the water cups”, and insisted on jogging over to a trashcan to dispose of them. Keep in mind there were hundreds, if not thousands of cups all over the ground as runners grabbed water or Gatorade and disposed of them on the ground. I grabbed cups, chugged down the liquid and threw the cup down with gusto like I imagined the Kenyan doing, and added to the hundreds already littering the streets. Hundreds of cups, but minus the 4 Karen used.

Mile 9 was a struggle for me, and I cramped in Mile 11. The start of Miles 10, 11, 12, and 13 each had a decently steady hill to climb. I cursed the people who decided on this route at mile 11.5. 

Thank you to the guy behind me at mile 12.8 who told his running partner that we had “about 2 minutes left” and that the finish line was just around the corner ahead. My energy was gone, I was ready to be done running, and his words kept my feet moving. The end was near!

To the guy who at that same time stopped running right in front of me. Not smart, dude. I’m barely able to run in a straight line at this time, and there’s no chance of me changing direction to avoid you. Sorry I had to run into you, but you had it coming.

No banana has ever tasted as good as the one we got after the race.

Here’s Karen, after the race.

 

I’m guessing that I’ll be content with no races to run for a few months. At that point I’d advice you not to have a glass of wine while in my company, or I’ll try to convince you to run with me. I can be very persuasive. Just ask Karen.

Cousins

Last Saturday morning we found ourselves sitting on the front porch, awaiting some guests. To pass the time, we sit and chatted, and played. 

 

And gazed at the Dr. Seuss tree.

And threw our ball onto the driveway, but we know not to go there to get it ourselves 'cause the driveway is off limits when we play with balls. Balls roll into the street, you know. So we get Dada to get it for us.

And then a van pulled up. Who could it be? 

 Turns out it was a carload full of cousins. The cousins came in and immediately gave poor, neglected Elvis some love. Poor Elvis. He used to be the baby around here before those other two showed up.

The boys gave a little love to Nana.

And then they all went off to our park. Keith and I did an errand that I will discuss later, so I'm not sure exactly what happened, I can only guess from Karen's pictures.

Cole monopolized the tallest slide. Not by sliding over and over, but by blocking the slide entrance to swing from the metal rail. WHEEEEEEE.

He will occasionally step aside for favorite people, and so Greg got a turn to slide.

And little dude Rhett, with Sara behind. You can tell Cole is dying to get back to his swinging. The anticipation causes some nailbiting.

Phew. Everyone slid, and he's back to swinging.

One can only swing so long before you need others to make you go WHEEEE. I wish the cousins lived closer so they could come and do this more often.

I mean really, how cute are they? And they're even lined up from youngest to oldest. Cute, and clever. Rhett, Sara, Greg. Look how sassy Sara is with her leg posing. Watch out, Karen!

I anticipated an attempt at a group photo, and this one's not bad. Sort of a posed shot, sort of a candid with them all lounging. 

And then Keith and I got back from our errand, the whole gang headed back to our house, where we handed the BellyMomma something she's been waiting for a while. 

 

What's the deal with the shirt? I'll tell you tomorrow.

Contos Academy: March 19

Last Friday the boys again went to the Contos Academy.I don't have any pictures of their day to share, but here are some from when we got home. The drive home is a long one, so when we got home, we ran around the front yard. And threw things like little boys like to do.

 

As they ran, I read the day's play-by-play Stacy sent home, and I saw in their bag these cute little flowers. I gave Cole both of the flowers, and he promptly ran and gave Grady a flower. The picture below is a little fuzzy since the camera focused on the tree, but I'm including it because it's rare to capture the sweet moments between these two. 

 They were mesmerized by their flowers.

For a minute, at least. And then they gave them back to me, which suited me just fine because I was busy playing with their other crafty item. Buttershiiiiiiiis.