Nerd Alert: Foster Grant Lightspecs

LIGHTSPECS!!!

Ahhh Foster Grant reading spectacles how I love you.  I do not technically NEED glasses, but sometimes my eyes get tired when I have spent a long night needlepointing.  I enjoy wearing them to finish my needlepointing OR read my book in bed before I go to sleep.

HOWEVER, I have long had a difficulty.  Someone (who shall remain nameless) does not like it when I read in the bed with my light on at night.  SO, I have no choice but to put an elasticized caving/camping light on my head, and then balance my glasses precariously on my nose, because my son broke off one of the sides of the glasses that rests on my ear.  If it sounds uncomfortable, it is.  If it sounds as if it looks ridiculous, there are not even words to describe just how ridiculous.

I was going to post a picture of myself in the elasticized head lamp and the broken glasses, but I took a brief glance in the mirror at how the head lamp pushed my brows down like a cro-magnon man, and the broken glasses teetered on my nose, and my personal vanity halted me in my tracks.

Then last night, I was watching a documentary about Richard Branson on MSNBC and there was a commercial on for the new Foster Grant Lightspecs.  They are tortoise reading glasses WITH LIGHTS INSIDE!!!!!

I was awed and amazed.  I went to the drugstore immediately today, and I am the proud owner of a pair of Foster Grant Lightspecs.  They were $24 and worth every penny.  I can read and needlepoint with ease. There is no need to use a reading lamp.  I am in heaven.

Book Report: The Times We Had by Marion Davies

So, I have a Hearst thing, and if you have ever been to San Simeon you also have a Hearst thing.  The magnitude, the weirdness, the Davies/Hearst relationship; it is all just too fascinating for words.  The night that I ran the Huntsville marathon, I watched a film about William Randolph Hearst and Orson Welles and the whole Citizen Kane thing.  Then, the following night, I watched a documentary about Marion Davies.  The film about Hearst and Welles was all about the desperate stab that William Randolph Hearst took at stopping the release of Citizen Kane. Hearst could not stop it, because he filed for bankruptcy and could not free up funds to pay a lawyer for a seemingly frivolous law suit.  The Susan Alexander character in Citizen Kane was of course supposed to be modeled after Marion Davies with the only difference being that Marion was a stage and film actress, not an opera singer and Marion never left Hearst.

Now, the documentary, was narrated by Charlize Theron and produced by Hugh Hefner.  It sort of makes sense that Hugh Hefner would feel that it was his personal responsibility to take up for all the sixteen-year-olds in the world who take up with married 60 year old men.  So that kind of cracked me up, but it was an interesting documentary.  The whole thing talked about Marion Davies' intelligence and talent as an actress, and I guess as a silent film star she was not afraid to do slapstick comedy.

SO, watching these two films inspired me to purchase Marion Davies autobiography, The Times We Had. Let me just tell you, it just about Hearsted me out.  Now, Orson Welles wrote the introduction to the book, which seemed like a bit of a kick in the pants to old William Randoph Hearst who was deceased at the time of the writing and publication.  I can only fathom that Welles agreed to write it out of some deep personal guilt he felt out of portraying Marion Davies so accurately on film after trespassing on her kindness for several weeks at San Simeon.  Welles alludes to this much in his intro, blaming himself for the public perception of Marion Davies. (I am not EVEN going to tell you what I found out that "Rosebud" was purported to mean. It is just too much.) Welles may have had something to do with it, BUT he was right on the money.  He did not represent her falsely right down to the jigsaw puzzles that were her primary source of solitary amusement.  Reading and playing cards were not within her realm of ability.

The Times We Had was a deep deep disappointment.  It is the epitome of what happens when someone is famous for the wrong reasons, and someone convinces her to write a book about it.  As far as I could tell, she was so low and unable to manage her own life that the best thing that ever happened to her was having someone who was reasonably smart and well seated like Hearst scoop her up, silence her and keep her out of as much trouble as he could.  The trouble he could not keep her out of, he could at least keep out of the papers.

Now the book was probably written in her alcoholic heyday, but even accommodating that misfortune, it is poorly written.  It appears to be the work of someone who is trying to cover up/ explain what she wants you to hear, but she does not realize that you kind of know the real story. For instance, she explains the mysterious death or Thomas Ince at San Simeon by saying "I was really furious about the Thomas Ince story. Tom was sick for two days and then died. It (the idea that W.R. Hearst had killed Ince in a fit of jealousy) was the most ridiculous story I ever heard in my life, but when you have an association with a very well known man like W.R. (Hearst) you are bound to get it."

That is sort of how most of the book runs.  Marion explaining that people thought Hearst had done one thing or another, but he really had not; everyone was happy; everything was perfect.  BUT, there are countless instances of Hearst going back to New York to visit his wife and family for however long he felt like being away and leaving Marion with a sitter who made sure that she did not get too drunk or sleep with anyone else.  They had a child, but Hearst insisted she stay a secret, so the child (Patricia Van Cleve Lake) was sent to live with Marion's sister and Marion went on living the way that Hearst insisted that she live.

I guess it was the story of this sort of lost and wayward life that was swept into the overpowering trajectory that was life with William Randolph Hearst and absorbed by it.  To let go of a life, a child, and sublimate any desire that you might have to do anything of your own accord, to have no expectations of your life partner but that he take care of you materially is rather stunning and the fact that her life devolved into alcoholism after Hearst's death is not at all surprising.  She was not allowed at the funeral, and she was largely ignored by his estate.

Rather amazing though, Hearst's money troubles, which stemmed from failing magazines, the upkeep of San Simeon and purchase upon foolish purchase of European art that he could not even store, were pulling him under financially.  Marion went of her own accord, so she says, to Hollywood from San Simeon and sold much of the jewelry that Hearst had given her, coming up with one million dollars to help pull his finances to a manageable state. (The receipt for it is published in the book.) Hearst could not bear to part with any of his collections, and Marion took things into her own hands.  It was pretty amazing and maybe the greatest example of Marion's total submission to Hearst's selfishness.  She was not a partner really, she was a pet in the worst sense of the word.

It was a rather depressing read, but in true Betsy Sloan form I insisted on trudging through to the end.  OH, and the other interesting thing was that the book's editors ended up writing lengthy notes on most every page to try to explain and decipher Marion's stories and personal history and bad grammar and incomplete tellings of various things.

Yeah, so do not read this book.  Read something else.

Thursday: Run, Gilad, Cookie Update and Prophylactic Story Number One Million

Ahhhh, Holiday Thursday!!  I stayed up late reading my new book Cutting for Stone, slept late and slunk around all day in tatty yoga pants and NEVER EVEN LOOKED IN THE MIRROR.  I once read an interview with Andie McDowell, and she said that in her family her mother never allowed her to look in the mirror to try to teach her to not be concerned with her looks.  LA-TI-DAH, is what I what I say to that. I have wiled away days of my life in front of the mirror, because I want to make sure all my eyebrows are laying in the right direction, I want to see which of 10 blush colors makes me look the peachiest, I want to perfect my mascara techniques, ect. ect. ect.  You get the picture.

So, when I say that I did not look in the mirror, it is a fine line that I am on my way to going to the grocery in a snuggie with "I DON'T CARE ANYMORE" lettered across the front, popping up at dinner in my sweats, or scratching inappropriately in mixed company.  Things are bad, and I need to put the holidays behind me.  On the upside, I have had no candy today and only two cookies.  I am pleased to report that there is only one cookie left, and I will eat it tomorrow and then go cold turkey off refined sugar.  This may whack out my system, and I hope that I am not howling in the front yard by noon tomorrow.  I am a fighter, and I can beat this thing.  The moonshine is still here however, and it is cherry flavored, and I keep telling myself it is a cough suppressant.  I will deal with odd holiday alcoholic nonsense after I deal with the last cookie.  You cannot beat it all at once.

Now, after Ivan's nap, I got in a really nice four mile run and then a Gilad workout.  I accomplished all my paper work, managed my Ebay account and had a very healthy lunch of smoked salmon and raw broccoli.  In the evening, in an elaborate comedy of errors, disaster occurred.

I had set out two boxes of angel hair pasta and from the corner of my eye saw two tiny hands reach up furtively to grab at the boxes.  Sensing imminent danger, I grabbed the boxes with all haste from Ivan's hands, and lo and behold, both boxes were open at the ends.  My grab was too fast and the ENTIRE CONTENTS of both boxes flew into the air in an angel hair pasta storm, pasta covered the floor as if a haystack had been decimated in the kitchen.  It was really terrible.

Now someone foolish (and by "someone" I mean myself) had put away all the baby gates, because someone (and by "someone" I again mean myself) thought that they were unnecessary.  Pasta is very difficult to clean up when it is as fine and tiny as angel hair, you really cannot suck it up in the vacuum cleaner, because it is too brittle and long.  It was impossible to keep Ivan out of the kitchen because he was too enthralled by the mess.  At one point, while I was cleaning with my back to him, Ivan rushed the kitchen like an overwrought fan at a concert, and I turned to see him hurling dry pasta into the air with both hands.  When he made eye contact with the fire in my eyes, he was undaunted, yelling "yay!!!  yay!!! It pasta!!!  Pasta!!!".  He was so thrilled.

It took many minutes to scoop and trash and sweep and scoop and confiscate what Ivan was trying to sprint away with into the darker recesses of the house.  It was so terrible.  I have located the baby gates and put them at the ready by the kitchen door, and I would like to file this terrible story away in the prophylactic file.  I mean honestly, nobody should get into all this unless they are fully prepared.

Wednesday: Swim and Pure Barre

So I am two cookies in today, three muffins and a good bit of Lindt balling. The  two cookies happened at 6:30 AM and went down so smoothly with a cup of coffee.  The Lindt balls are gone now, and I am not too bothered by them.  I had a muffin meltdown at dinnertime, but I have to think that I am on the upswing from Monday's cookie-fest where I lost count of the Christie cookies that I ingested.  I am moving in the right direction and that is all I can ask.

After my hearty two cookie kick-off to the day, I had a great smoothie and lots of green tea and headed off to swim.  We actually had a great workout today and we stayed on interval and got in a lot of yardage for our pool time.  I forgot to take a picture of the workout, so I will just have to piecemeal it together for you as I can remember:

• 500 swim
• 200 kick
• 4 x 75 kick/drill/swim IM
• 400 swim
• 8 x 50 IM Drill/ Swim
• 300 pull
• 12 x 25 IM
• 200 swim
• 4 x 50 kick/drill/swim
• 6 x 100 swim

There might have been some more swim in there, I just can't remember.  Now the pool is closed on Friday, so there is the possibility that I will go back to swim tomorrow and there is also the chance that I will hang out at the house and maybe do a jog stroller run. I may let Ivan decide or I might do both things.  In a way, I will be glad when all this holidaying is over as Ivan and I can get back in our routine.  It seems that we have been in our PJ's since December 20th.  Poor Ivan has probably thinks that footie pajamas are some sort of all day uniform that I have instituted.  

Anyway, on the way home, Ivan asked for a cheeseburger.  Ivan generally ignores food completely, and I suffer from the persistent worry that he will faint away of starvation.  So when he requested such a high calorie treat, I pulled right into the McDonalds' ordered him the happiest of all happy meals.  He ate the entire thing (except for the two bites that I took), and I was just stunned.  So nice though.

In the afternoon I got in a Pure Barre workout with my new Pure Barre 2 dvd.  It is just so hard that sometimes I have to stop and rest my poor thighs.  Standing on your tip toes and tucking for 45 minutes is just excruciating.  

Tuesday: Swim, Gilad and One Cookie

One Cookie!!!!  Yesterday, three cookies, and that is not counting the 1.5 cookies that I stole from Ivan, was the status quo.  Also, I engaged in a bit of Lindt chocolate balling and there might have been some chocolate marshmellowing in there as well.  AND, when I woke up coughing with no Robitussin or cough drops available at 1:00 AM, I might have engaged in a bit of moonshining, because, NO JOKE, someone gave us moonshine for Christmas.

Today, however, was a new dawn, a new day and I had one cookie before my smoothie and then NO MORE COOKIES.  I am not even sure how this much willpower or how the stars aligned themselves, but it is the truth.  I have broken the Christmas cycle.  I might have eaten too many Lindt chocolate balls, but I feel that we should take our victories where we can get them and I only had one cookie, and I am pretty thrilled.  It was personal triumph  self control.

In other news, today was a day that I got up and drank coffee the way that some marathoners drink Gatorade on a 90 degree day.  I guzzled it hardcore with a vengeance that should be reserved for people who have to stay awake for the next 72 hours or those that are working the night shift.  I did not sleep great, as Ivan woke up in the middle of the night and I was forced FORCED to engage in the moonshine, and it turned into THAT kind of day.

Though today was Tuesday, we all engaged in swim to stave off the Christmas calories.  Workout as follows:

• 500 swim
• 500 pull
• 8 x 75 IM
• 1000 kick
• 200 warmdown

It was a great post-Christmas workout.  I felt like a human who was not living on terrible Christmas delicacies, but one who was thriving despite the Christmas caloric tomfoolery.  I will swim again tomorrow and maybe twice and I will put this Christmas behind me.

At home, I got in some Gilad and a healthy lunch and dinner and residual Christmas drama.  It happens to all of us.

My review of Marion Davies, The Times We Had tomorrow. Confession: It was not great.

Book Report: Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln by Doris Kearns Goodwin

Since sometime in the summer, July I think, I have been pretty immersed in Team of Rivals.  It was my first read by Doris Kearns Goodwin, and it was just a phenomenal read about a phenomenal man.  The crux of the book is how Lincoln put together a cabinet of men who had run against him in the Presidential elections or been unkind to him in his early professional life and used them to power through a terrible war and inspire the respect and love not only of those close to him but of a nation.

Lincoln's ability to delay his reactions, to think before he spoke, to relinquish the personal pain inflicted by others and to speak and act with a complete absence of pride and always the presence of humility made him seemingly a divine choice to be our 16th president.  On page 174 Goodwin states that Lincoln revealed "a singular ability to transcend personal vendetta, humiliation, or bitterness."  That statement sums up Lincoln's behavior with everyone in his life: his wife, his children, his colleagues and his enemies. He could let it all go and do the right thing EVERY TIME.  He did not look to satisfy or avenge.  He truly lived a life of forgiveness and putting others first in every situation.

In fact, the only criticism that I would have of Lincoln is that he should sometimes have acted faster.  He should have moved McClellan out as Major General earlier.  McClellan accomplished nothing for too long, but Lincoln gave him the benefit of the doubt.  He should have allowed Salmon Chase, the Secretary of the Treasury, to resign the first time he turned in a resignation letter, but he continued to be kind to him over and over even after he attempted to undermine Lincoln's reelection campaign which would have been devastating to a country at war.

When the South surrendered, Lincoln encouraged Grant to let Jefferson Davis (the president of the Confederate States) know that if he disappeared out of the country it would be best.  Lincoln had no desire to punish he and the other Confederate officers. Goodwin wrote well about how the South lost its greatest ally when Lincoln was assassinated; there was no one else who would have been as lenient.

I learned to really love and respect Ulysses S. Grant and and William T. Sherman.  They saw their jobs through to the end, forging ahead where McClellan had cowered. They had the great foresight to see that without decisive action they could not get to the end of the war and thus the end of the massive loss of life.  Also, they were not divas, they were low-key and worked hard.

I have so many favorite stories from Team of Rivals, but one that best illustrates Lincoln might be the time when he visited the front and there was not a horse his size, but he was determined to ride out and express his gratitude to the troops, so he climbed on the tiny horse that was available (maybe it was a mule) and his legs were too long for the stirrups so his legs just hung.  This made his pants ride up to his knees and his socks and legs were exposed and the soldiers all laughed, and he laughed with them.  He had no personal vanity that would have stopped him from making sure that every soldier felt appreciated.

I liked Mary Todd better than I thought.  She was horrible and made a hard life harder for Lincoln, but she put in a lot of hours working at the military hospitals and she lost three dear children and the remaining child committed her to an asylum later in life.  She did not have an easy time of it.

I think what most strikes me is that there was no one who should have had a leisurely retirement surrounded by his children more than Lincoln.  The tragedy of his loss for our country and just for the dear man that he was is so senseless that it hurts.  Doris Kearns Goodwin paints a picture of a man that you cannot help but love and feel drawn to. His death was incredibly emotional as there are quotes from his devastated cabinet members and the people who knew him best.

Having read American Lion earlier this year about Andrew Jackson, I cannot help but compare the trajectories of the two men.  It is ironic that Andrew Jackson, who spent most of his life alternately chasing and deserving death, lived to old age and died at home in his bed, while Lincoln who spent his life doing the opposite, should be taken from a family and country that needed him when he was quite young really.

I feel that this book is a must read, but it is a big commitment.

Monday: Gilad and Christmas Cookies Gone Wild

For the love of Mike, will someone come to my house and confiscate the tin of Christie cookies?????  All day long, every time I roam in the vicinity of the kitchen, I am wont to grab Christie cookie and eat it in a similar fashion to the manners of the Cookie Monster or a wild dog.  I will turn down no cookie.  I have enjoyed many different kinds today and do not even get me started on the Lindt mint balls that a hateful gift giver bestowed upon me.  This ridiculous ingestion has to stop before I push myself over the edge of Type II diabetes.  Finally, there is still a Whiskey Pudding in the refrigerator.  A Whiskey Pudding!!!! which sounds to me like something that Henry VIII would have snacked on after eating a pig's head and a leg of mutton.

The thing is, I ate great food today.  Really healthy meals.  A delicious smoothie for breakfast, green tea all day long, sweet potatoes and edamame for lunch and a bean soup for dinner.  It is just the inbetween times, the snacks that are littering my countertops and the Christmas m&m's that I find strewn hither and yon. Surely it will all be over by New Year's and then I can pull myself together before that dastardly Easter Bunny comes prancing along with his Cadbury Eggs.


I did get in a Gilad workout and a stack of the dullest household chores imaginable.  It was too cold to put Ivan in the Jog stroller, but the pool opens tomorrow!!!

Christmas Weekend: A Great Run, A Lovely Christmas, and A Great Personal Triumph

Such a lovely Christmas that there was no time to blog.  So on Christmas Eve morning, I was up early to meet my running group for a seven mile Christmas run which was nice.  My pre-run fuel was a big bowl of oatmeal with protein powder and two Christie cookies, a chocolate chocolate chip and a white chocolate chip macadamia nut.  Now I know that this is not the best breakfast of all time, but it is the Christmas holiday and cookies and chocolate have become some of the major food groups for me.  We still have at least 14 Christie cookies left in the house and I am just going to have to ride this wave until it is over.  I may be able to let the oatmeal raisin cookies go, but the rest of them will be ingested, I just know it.

In a sad/tragic turn of events, my husband was griping at my son not to walk around the house while holding cookies because of the trail of crumbs and such and I realized that this was completely my fault.  If Ivan sets his cookie down for even a moment, there is a very good chance that his mother will pick it up and eat it before he knows what has happened.  It is terrible, and my lack of self-control is appalling.

Anyway, post run, Ivan and I loaded up and headed out to my parents' house for a fabulous Christmas eve of visiting with friends and neighbors.  Ivan rode his tricycle and my family played a competitive game of scrabble where my brother incorporated the work "quail" in an ingenius use of the letter "q" only to be ousted by a rule technicality.

On Christmas morning, Ivan was up and excited.  He immediately wrecked the fabulous balance bike that we got him and popped a screw, and I must now spend tomorrow in talks with the service department of zum bikes about getting a new screw.  It will all work out.

Now, the unfortunate part of Christmas is that there is too much of it, and we spent the day running to various houses.  Ivan wore three different outfits and by the time it was all over, we were thoroughly Christmased out.  I was more exhausted than after my marathon BY FAR.

Now, by the time we arrived home, I was hardcore Grinchy.  I had spread all the Christmas cheer I had in my person, and I spent the rest of the evening finishing Team of Rivals.  Now, I have been reading Team of Rivals since the summer.  I have put it down a couple of times to read other things for book club or what not, but I have been hanging in there.  Yes, I have been personally involved with the Lincolns for much too long, and I shed many tears over the last chapter even though I knew what was coming.  I cannot wait to write my book report.

I slept the sleep of the dead and hopped up this morning to so much snow, much housekeeping, and again with the cookies.  In the afternoon, I got in a Pure Barre workout and a very chilly run in a new Lululemon running ensemble that is just so chic.

Book reports and the pool is not open tomorrow.

Thursday: Run, Work and Pure Barre

This morning, I popped out of bed when Ivan woke up and spent some time getting him some breakfast before popping out the door to get in a run before I showered for work.  I did not take my watch and I only ran a flat three miles while listening to top forty music.  It was nice, not too cold.

At home, I have been kicking off many mornings with smoked salmon on toast with goat cheese.  I have a love affair with salmon, and I really can't get enough of it.  So I had bunches of green tea and and my salmon sandwich, and headed in for what turned out to be a really nice workday.  My office was completely deserted, and my appointment went off without a hitch.

After work, I made it by the Food Company for what has become my favorite salad of all time.  It is just their house salad with turkey added and onions subtracted, but it involves blue cheese and candied pecans and confession:  I have had it twice this week.  After the Food Company, I drove to the Lululemon store where a fabulous employee came out with my purchase and just threw it through the car window so that I did not have to fight for a parking place and elbow my way threw the throngs.  I love the employee who did that for me, as she saved an hour of my life.

At home, I did a bit of Ebay managing, and I just want you to know that my sequin dress does not appear to be selling well.  This means that I may not be able to be the proud owner of a new pair of fancy jeans and there is nothing worse than being deprived of fancy jeans.

After young Sloan went down for his nap, I wasted some time and then got in a Pure Barre workout, which was so hard. Just so hard.  All my tucking and lifting felt like it was going to snap my thigh muscles.

Had a great friend over to eat spaghetti, and as she was leaving, of course, Ivan vomited on the both of us.  He stuffed a bit too much cheese in, and it erupted in big way.  Such a lovely way to end an evening.

Am excited about my Christmas Eve run with my running group tomorrow!!  So fun!!

Wednesday: Swim and Christmas Visiting

So this morning, Ivan and I were remarkably late for swim.  We were so late that I felt obligated to stay late to finish up some of the swim workout so that I could say that I had actually done something today.  I swam about 3000 meters, which is quite nice.  We were up on time, but I am  embroiled in Ebay selling and felt that I had many questions to answer and pictures to update before I went to swim.  It is my own fault for buying a sequin sheath dress in the first place.  I, Betsy Sloan, live in a dream world where I wear sequins and such on a daily basis.  In the real world, however, all I really need are combat boots, some jeans, and a trash bag to fend off the byproducts of life with my child.  Oh, I also need a bathing suit and some running shoes.  Honestly though, there are really no clothes that I need.  I mean maybe a hazmat suit or some coveralls, both of which I refuse.  I refuse them, because I refuse to give up.  Two year old or no, I will have my skinny jeans.

Anyway, swim workout was a lot of IM and a lot of 200 intervals.  Swimming during Christmas breaks is the worst, because we masters swimmers only get a couple of lanes due to all the age group swimmers swimming in the middle of the day since they are not in school.  The indoor pool air gets greenhouse hot and the water is murky from things I do not even want to think about. The whole pool deck in an inch thick with water from drippy high school students standing around in wet bathing suits.  The showers are a nightmare of death metal decibel shrieking from all the high school girls trying to yell over the shower jets and each other.  There is fruity conditioner and terrible perfume.  It is all just the worst.

Anyway, after swim, Ivan and I headed home for another disastrous viewing of Curious George before he took his nap. Today, for a Christmas kicker, George somehow released the neighbor's dog into heavy traffic before lighting off for upstate New York.  When The Man in the Yellow Hat found him, George smiled maniacally and shrugged his shoulders as if people do that everyday.

Anyway, in the afternoon, Ivan and I went Christmas visiting and returned home with the most beautiful double decker train set and that gave him one solid hour of pure joy.  It was lovely!!

Tuesday: Day Off

Betsy and Baby Ivan with Margaret the Great

So today was really the best sort of day off, because I had a double workday planned but then had a cancellation so I had some time to myself.  I headed in to work on a rocket trajectory, and I somehow lost a great tea glass in the process.  Was it on the hood of the car? Did it fly off into traffic? Did I somehow toss it as I sprinted into work in a timely fashion?  No idea, but I am sad about it.  I will say it is a common occurrence that I lose something when I am flustered by packing up Ivan and all of his gear and all of my things and pulling myself together.

Anyway, once I had a cancellation, I was able pop out to Target for stocking stuffers and such and rush over to the mall where I went to True Religion and tried on jeans for a luxurious hour.  Do you know what a luxury it is to be in a dressing room and try on a pair of jeans without hopping into them on one leg with one hand while you try to grip your toddler's leg with an iron grip as he is attempting to crawl away under the dressing room door?  It is a huge luxury.

I have been seen naked at Forever XXI, been seen in my skivies at Anthropologie and Lululemon as I had no choice but to suddenly sprint from the dressing room after Ivan had wrenched out of my grip and slithered under the door of the dressing room.  It is terrible and retail establishments of the world, I beseech you to only use dressing room doors that touch the floor so that over-zealous toddlers cannot run away from their bedraggled mothers who are desperately trying to get clothes over their heads.

I tired on so many lovely pairs of jeans, and it sort of felt like heaven.

Swim tomorrow!!

Monday: Swim, Gilad, Much Potty Training Advice, and Whiskey Pudding

So last night after swimming 5000 meters and sleeping like a bear in hibernation, I was up and at 'em to make a delicious smoothie and cajole Ivan into the car to get to swim.  Now, NO, I did not put in the hardest swim of my life today, after a long swim yesterday and a week of sickness.  We had a good workout, and I kicked a lot and I pulled a bit, and I think it was around 3000 meters.  I am going to have to hit it a bit harder on Wednesday, but no big thing.  We all have a week off now and then.

 At home, I got in a Gilad workout and then got on the horn and sought potty training advice from some of the smartest of my parenting friends.  The general consensus is that I need to back off the potty training as Ivan is heading for open potty training defiance.  It is most unfortunate, and I guess I will hold off until after New Year's or February.

Finally, in the evening, I began work on my Christmas Whiskey pudding.  It involves Jack Daniels Black Label and golden raisins and vanilla wafers.  You have to put your hands in the batter and my hands still smell like whiskey and I just can't say that it's a bad thing.  I love Christmas.

Sunday: 5000 meter swim and Potty Training is a Bust

So this morning, I was forced to go to a stack of books and the internet for help with my potty training situation that is apparently going nowhere.  Ivan and I had a day long battle of the wills, and it seems that I may have lost.  According to the following Mayo CLini Potty Training questionare, if I answered no to most of the following questions, I should discontinue potty training.

• Does your child seem interested in the potty chair or toilet, or in wearing underwear? (Ivan informs me that the answer this is an emphatic "NO")
• Can your child understand and follow basic directions? (Oh yes, but will he??)
• Can your child ask simple questions? (Indeed, he can shout "WANT MY DIAPER" at his mother all day long)
• Does your child stay dry for periods of two hours or longer during the day? Does he or she wake from naps dry? (For the love of Mike, NO! Is that not why we are potty training.  Is not a child who naturally holds their excretions already potty trained by virtue of the acquired skill??)
• Does your child have fairly predictable bowel movements? (Not so much)
• Does your child tell you through words, facial expressions or posture when he or shm,le needs to go? (Never, Never, Never and if I suspect and ask, he denies)
• Is your child uncomfortable in wet or dirty diapers? (No, he loves a wet or dirty diaper and as I found yesterday, enjoys wet or dirty baby boxer shorts almost as much)
• Can your child pull down his or her pants and pull them up again?  (He can, yes, but if not closely attended, "pull down" pants are pulled off and someone may take off running through the house only to urinate in Daddy's office or in his train table bins.  He is best at telling me in which area of our home he has decided to, if not ruin, cause many moments of carpet cleaning.)

So what does all this mean?  Does it mean that I should stop potty training right now, and start up again after Christmas.  I just don't know.  I am going to poll a few friends, do a bit more research and I will get back to you.  

In other news, I went back to swim today after a week long hiatus of convelescing my sinus infection.  I went back, because today was 50 x 100 swim, which was so much fun.  We actually did it on two minute intervals this year, which was great for me since I had been sick, but I really liked getting in the yardage at a more challenging pace last year. 

Anyway, after swimming 5000 yards, I got the best nights sleep I have gotten since the night of my marathon, and I am a huge fan of a great night's sleep.  

Saturday: Pure Barre and Potty Training Did Not Go Well For Us

So today we began potty training at 8:00 AM and out of the 15 times that Ivan has used the restroom today,  he has used the restroom in the potty three times.  THREE TIMES.  That means that the other 12 times he used the restroom, it was on the floor.  Yesterday went so well, but today the novelty wore off and there was much time spent yelling at his mother to "PUT ON DIAPER", to which I did not give in.  We tried fun underwear, we tried going commando, we tried rewards and we tried everything else.  We rediapered at  naptime and we rediapered at 6:00 in the evening in preparation for bedtime.  I feel a bit like a failure, but I am taking it all in stride and telling myself that he will one day use the potty.  I mean, what else can I really tell myself, because the alternative is most depressing.  A future where I have to explain to my son's prom date how to change his diaper after dinner and before the dance so that his tuxedo pants don't look ridiculously bulky while he he dancing is too bleak for me to imagine.

Anyway, in other news I was able to wrap most all of my Christmas presents and get in a Pure Barre session.  Tomorrow, I plan to return to swim for the mighty 5K swim that we do every Christmas.  So exciting.

Posting before and after pics of my chairs!!

Friday: Christmas Marathon

Oh yes friends, today was the day that I wore two Christmas outfits and Ivan wore two Christmas smocks, and we went hardcore holiday.  First on the roster was Ivan and I's attendance at a Christmas tea.  Now, this was insane of me to even attempt, but sometimes I have a terrible memory lapse of how bad the last event was and I try to take Ivan.  Today, I knew it was time to leave when I thought Ivan was standing beside me while a woman in a beautiful pair of quilted Chanel pumps was telling me about potty training her children.  Now, she had not really potty trained her children, it appeared to me that the "help" had potty trained when I heard the full story.  AND, can we just talk about how why is it that your child always does something horrible when you are standing beside a woman wearing Chanel pumps who has perfect children.

Anyway, of course, Ivan was not standing right beside me and when I found him, he was in the hostess' bathroom at the vanity mirror with her tub of moisturizer that is WAY out of my price range, just moisturizing away.  His cheeks, legs, arms and coat were well moisturized, and I, Betsy Sloan, was forced to clean up her bathroom and my child as if I were the "help" and then apologize to everyone and vacate the premises like a common vagrant.




From the tea, Ivan and I went for a visit with friends, which went reasonably well.  He did spill his bottle in the bathroom, but they were good friends, and they probably knew that was coming. After a great nap at home, Ivan and I headed in to have a picture made with Santa Claus.  While we did have the usual mall shenanigans, and yes, Ivan did manage to hop into someone else's picture with Santa Claus.  We made a reasonable picture and headed home where potty training began.

Now, I will say that when your child is asking you to put on their diaper so that they can go to the bathroom, they have some idea of how to control the emissions.  So, I felt that was a good part of Ivan's training.  During the two hours that I potty trained this afternoon, Ivan asked for his diaper repeatedly before looking at me with GREAT resentment and heading to the potty.  I, meanwhile, cheered harder than any Spartan cheerleader ever did for everything that hit the toilet bowl.  No accidents so far though.

After two hours of cheering, encouraging, checking the corners and behind all the doors to make sure that all of Ivan's potty entries had indeed gone into the potty, my nerves were rather frayed.  It had been a long day and a woman in Chanel pumps had told me that she had perfect children.  SO, I met my friend Missy out for the most fun holiday drinks of all time and when asked, I might have said, "Why yes, I will have another!!"

All day potty training tomorrow.  See you there,

Thursday: Chair Heaven and Running Party

So, yes, my doctor says that I have a terrible sinus infection and then we just stared at each other with "so what are you going to do about it" sad eyes.  He wrote me a prescription for an antibiotic, and I marched out to my car in the rain.  From there, I went to pick up my chairs which had been left at the upholsterers for two months.  Let me just tell you that they were stunning.  Really stunning.  For a set of throne chairs that were unceremoniously ditched at my house, they are a real triumph.

Now, later in the evening, it was off to running group party, which is the best party of the year.  It is great food and my favorite conversations: running, swimming and books.  I edged in a spot next to the table and discussed between bites of food.  I was loathe to leave, but had to self medicate at home.

At home, I Tylenol Cold and Sinused myself into something of a decent night's sleep and today, I think the worst may be over.

Wednesday: Sickness

So I have a sinus infection, which left me to spend my morning in front of the television with Ivan watching Curious George, his favorite cartoon du jour.  I have many thoughts about Curious George, but I have decided that they all boil down to the fact that George is a menace, with some strain of Conduct Disorder.  It would be so terrible to have Curious George as your pet or your surrogate child as it is.  The Man In The Yellow hat is late to work on daily basis if he makes it in at all based on George's shenanigans.  There is not one instant that you can take your eyes off of George, because as soon as you do, he is letting the elephant out of the zoo or getting on the wrong train and heading for the hills.  The Man In The Yellow Hat is CONSTANTLY about to have a coronary, and it cannot be good for his health.  After watching a couple of episodes yesterday, I decided that George's behavior was clinically significant.

I do not feel that The Man In The Yellow Hat was completely knowledgeable when he agreed to adopt George.  He does not appear to be married and he has no help with the care of George and it seems that there are no daycare centers in proximity of their apartment.  The way things are going for The Man In The Yellow Hat, I cannot imagine that he will be allowed to continue to live in his apartment for much longer.  George is literally hanging out of the window or making some horrible cacophony of sound at every minute that has surely come up in board meetings. Not to mention that one day he stole ALL the recycling bins in the building and made some foul smelling compost IN THE APARTMENT that drew all types of insects and appeared to damage the carpet.

He and George need to throw up their hands, say they tried, and part company.  The Man In The Yellow Hat needs to move on, and George needs to be in an environment where he can receive the care he needs from professionals who can deal with whatever it is he has.

Anyway, I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow and I see antibiotics in my future, and right at Christmas too.  Bleh

Book Report: The Remains of the Day, by Kazuo Ishiguro

I have read three books in my life that I would say read like perfectly thought out poems from beginning to end: Not a word out of place, not a thought left unraveled.  Everything seemed plotted out perfectly, and there was a just a lot a beauty to the story.  Those are, in order of my reading them: Breakfast at Tiffany's, by Truman Capote, The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald and The Remains of the Day, by Kazuo Ishiguro.  

The book encompasses the life of an English butler at the manor house of Darlington Hall from the time period after World War I until the time period leading up to World War II.  The crux of the book centers around the relationship of the butler with the more emotional and impetuous housekeeper of Darlington Hall.

The Butler's (Mr. Stevens) manner is so inhibited and the housekeeper's (Miss Kenton) manner so outgoing that there are frustrations in the running of the house, but also the undercurrent of knowledge that this is the closest relationship that the butler has ever had with anyone, let alone a woman.  As a general rule, however, the butler has difficulty expressing himself outside the bounds of his job or allowing himself to open up in the face of how greatly he feels towards his duty as butler of Darlington Hall.

Other subplots of the book include, Lord Darlington's pro-Nazi behavior and the butler's refusal to acknowledge anything but doing his duty to a great Lord, the plight of Mr. Stevens' father, and what determines the greatness of a butler.  The final thread of the book is how Mr. Stevens will function in a world where his profession is fast becoming a thing of the past.

The Remains of the Day is a perfect piece of literature.  It is an ode to doing the best that we can with the tools we are given and taking pleasure in a job well done.  It is an even 245 pages of pure joy.  I encourage you to pick it up and read it at your leisure.

Also, I have to say that I saw this film before I read the book and reading the book made the movie so meaningful.

Tuesday: The Coming Trial

This weekend we Sloans will be participating in an event that is greater than all of us.  It will mean being locked down in our house, it will mean vigilance, crying, anger, filth and possible the desecration of the material goods that I hold most dear - mainly my rugs.

We are going to potty train Ivan.  I am starting on Friday, and going hardcore until Monday.  We are not going out, we are not riding in cars or swanning about.  We are learning to use modern conveniences and there are no two ways about it.  It is happening.

Now, I have been prepping Ivan all week about how we do not use diapers at the end of the week.  We are counting down the days until there are no more diapers.  Now, when I ask Ivan if he is excited about not using diapers any more, he vigorously shakes his head no.  He is not interested in going anywhere near toilet seat and he has been very clear about his desire to stay in diapers until he is 27 years old.

It is time, however, to put childish things away.  Potty training is on our horizon, and it starts on Friday.

Back to swim tomorrow!!!

Monday: And We Are Snowed In

It is bitterly cold here, and we pretty much spent the day stranded at home, making minimal accomplishments.  I am two days out from a marathon and I cannot say that I am hugely concerned about my lack of activity.  My eating habits are currently typically holiday, and we are roaming amongst space heaters.  Not much to report.  I finished a fabulous book which I cannot wait to tell you about.  Abraham Lincoln and I are still slogging it out, and I am increasingly anxious for his welfare.

Little Else

Sunday: More ABout My Marathon

So, there are a few more things that I would like to impart about my marathon.  It was an interesting day.  For one thing, I was unrealistic in my expectations, which is not unusual for me as a person.  I am, after all, the selfsame person who plunged herself into the waters of Alcatraz and thought it would be a lovely day.  Now, my expectations were that I would run something like my Boston Marathon time, when I had had a recent hospital stay and virtually no training.

So, I traveled to Huntsville with a bit of trepidation, but felt pretty good about the situation overall.  I raised my mile times at mile 20ish and got passed by the 3:35 pacers.  I found the pacer's themselves to be rather frustrating creatures, as they can clearly run three hour marathons and running a 3:35 is just a chance for them to converse for 3 hours and 35 minutes about the next races that they will likely win in the cheerful tones of those who are not making a lot of effort.  It was rather demoralizing, as they passed me and chatted like it was nothing to charge past the grumpy girl running the 3:38.

Also, I wore my Boston Marathon technical tee shirt to run the marathon, which actually drew much more comment than you would think before and during the marathon.  There were many people who struck up conversations, to ask me about my time and people who even said that they were going to run with me based on my time, SO when my time fell apart, it seemed that my fellow runners were somewhat disappointed in me and my efforts.

Also, I was stranded in the race with a rather frustrating runner.  I could not lose him.  He was a loud cougher, a frequent spitter, a yeller at the crowd, he became more cheerful as my attitude declined, and he sometimes, for seemingly no reason, would fist pump and say "YEAH!!!!", in a way that made me want to strangle him while fist pumping and saying "YEAH!!!".  It was hard times.

But again, under the circumstances, it was a fine race, perfect weather and a lovely post race lunch with hot soup and tasty bagels.  It was nice, and I will not take the Huntsville Marathon off my list of marathons which I will run.

My Hearst Thing

Confession: last night I was a bit distracted, and I feel I have more to impart about my Saturday marathon.   BUT, let me just tell you that every once in a while I get a William Randolph Hearst/ Citizen Kane thing.  It is sort of an obsession, sometimes I am overcome to find out more about William Randolph and the closeness of Citizen Kane to his life story.  I have been to San Simeon, and do not even get me started on the kidnapping of Patricia Hearst by the Symbionese Liberation Army, because I can destroy a fun party with chatting about it.  Anyway, all this got in the way of fully reporting about my race.

Last night, I felt that there was some good information that I could glean from RKO 281, which is a film about the fight between William Randolph Hearst and Orson Welles to stop the release of Citizen Kane.  Now, I did get a bit of information about William Randolph Hearst's fall into receivership, and the help he received from Marion Davies. Overall, however, the most important thing that I learned was that William Randolph Hearst controlled much of the media, and he did not allow anything of interest to be printed.  We have no public knowledge of his behavior outside of a possible murder and his relationship with Marion Davies.  He stayed at San Simeon most of the time, and we do not know all that much about him as a person.  Orson Welles took the facts of public knowledge and made them fantastical, and accrued a lifetime of animosity, because as Hearst was in receivership he could not stop the release of the film.  I knew all that already, SO RKO 281 was a bit of a disappointment.  I will now have to read Marion Davies' autobiography, The Times We Had.  


Now in favor of the film, I will say that it was actually shot at San Simeon, which I found rather impressive.  Also, I found out about another documentary, Captured on Film: The True Story of Marion Davies.    I have moved this to the top of my Netflix cue, so that I can treasure up more ridiculous knowledge to dolefully impart to some unsuspecting party goer.

Saturday: Rocket City Marathon

So, I did not blog on Thursday, because honestly, if all you have to chronicle is a brief run, the warming up of left overs and some wining about the cold, should you really blog?  As an internet personality, should you impose your dullness on the world.  It seems necessary to edit.

On Friday, I fully intended to blog about my marathon intentions and goals, but our day got a bit out of control and at 6:00 PM, I found myself hurtling down to Huntsville, AL in a desperate dash to get to packet pick-up before it closed for the evening.  After arriving at packet pick-up, everyone was grumpy, and we had to drive to find my pre-race bacon cheeseburger, which I feel is integral to my success.  While eating my cheeseburger, I could not help but notice that Ivan's eye was suspiciously pink, and it stirred in me an overwhelming fear that another pink eye saga was upon us.   It pretty much ruined my dinner, and I kind of wanted to pack up and go to the nearest emergency room and turn my child over to them and beg that we all be released from another round of the pink eye.

Anyway, once checked into our hotel, I laid out all my clothes and got as good a night's sleep as you can get the night before a marathon.  I was up early and caught the shuttle to the marathon hotel where I sat around and waited for the start.  The Huntsville marathon is a pretty laid back marathon, and I was on the start line at 7:58 mostly alone.  The race officials finally fired a starters pistol, just to get everyone to the start line.

Now, I started out the race pretty perky with the idea that I would run a 3:30, and even though I had not really trained.  Until about mile 20, I was still delusionally grasping at that idea, BUT at mile 19.5 the 3:35 pacers ran right past me like I was standing still.  I, in turn, decided to up my speed, and I felt like I was chugging along pretty fast.  I looked at my watch, and though I felt like I was running as fast as I could, I had dropped to 9 minute miles.  It was all rather sad, and I felt my good humor evaporate immediately.

I became the grumpiest of all marathoners, and I refused to partake in the "we are almost finished" marathon banter.  I was irritated with the spectators telling me that "you're almost there", and I decided that I would never run another marathon.  I decided I would devote myself to my swimming and the improvement of my cycling.  I ran in for a finish that was 8 minutes later than I had thought it was going to be.  I moved through the post-marathon lunch line and had a bagel and some vegetable soup and sat down in the dining room with all the other marathon finishers.  I sort of forgot my resolution, and answered,  "Oh yes, most definitely", to questions about running Boston in 2012.  AND, Ivan does not have pink eye, so everything is right with my world!!
                                                                                                

Wednesday: Swim, Pure Barre and We Are Heading to the Eye of the Exhaustion Storm

At this point, Ivan has woken up before 6:00 AM and at some time during the night and not napped well for about a week.  It is painful, and I do not even remember being this tired when I was staggering around sleepless a few weeks after he was born.  I cannot help but think that, to some degree, this is because our new has worn off.  In those first few weeks, it was kind of punch drunk sweet to hop out of bed in the middle of the night to comfort a crying baby.  It is now 2.6 years later, and it just is not cool any more.  My child should sleep 12 hour nights, and I don't think there is anything else I want to hear on the subject.  And I certainly do not want to hear anything about it at 1:00 in the morning.

Anyway, I am trying not to be bitter, but my eyes are puffy and my fuse is short. We were late to swim, because both Ivan and I were both wining about the house and did not notice the time.  I forgot to take a picture of the workout, because my brain is frazzled.  We did some 3 x 200's, some 9 x 100's, and some 8 x 50's.  There was some more, but I don't remember.  The shower was so cold, that I was too chilled to shave my legs with all the goosebumps.  At home, Ivan took a great nap and I got in a Pure Barre workout.

Let's keep our fingers crossed for tonight!!

Tuesday: Run and Gilad

Now, I have found in my life that some people are able to be gracious and attractive when they are operating on less sleep than they ideally get.  They might mention that they are tired, not firing on all piston and may have some dark circles, but they are otherwise themselves.  There are many places where I missed the luck boat and most unfortunately functioning without sleep is one of my main deficiencies.

Without my allotted at least eight hours, I am unattractive with puffy eyes and an angry scowl.  Worse, I am intolerant of the least little thing and often, there are tears.  At my one and only slumber party, I vaguely remember sobbing long about 11:00 PM.  Someone was being loudish, and that was just too much for me. At age 8, I really needed everyone in bed with a book at by 9:30 PM at the latest.  Doesn't that sound like the best slumber party of all time, where everyone gets in bed at a decent hour and every wakes refreshed and pleasant.  I do not even want to TALK about the discomfort of sleeping bags.  Confession:  I officially threw the least fun slumber party of all time.  It was my only one, and I learned a lesson.  Sleep deprivation is not for me.

All this to say that I was woken by some most unnecessary screaming in my opinion long about 1:00AM last night and after much rocking and singing and drinking of warm milk, everyone settled down.  I was, however, robbed of two hours of necessary sleep.  For this reason, I was much prone to  much eye-rolling, peevishness, and snippy feelings.  There is no excuse for failing to be gracious under any circumstance, BUT today I was somewhat ungracious.

This morning, after popping Ivan off to nursery school, I went to Bible study where my exhaustion prompted the inhalation of much pumpkin bread and coffee.  Fatigue often leads me to unhealthy carbs and today was no exception.  At home, I had a healthy lunch but thawed out some tarts and managed to eat more than necessary, before moving through a small gingerbread cottage.

After lunch, I had a great run.  I guess I am tapering for my marathon, but that seems pretty ridiculous given my lack of preparation for this race.  I also got in a Gilad workout.

Monday: Swim and Gilad

So the drama at the pool lately is that there are all sorts of break-ins happening in the rec center parking lot. You can leave no valuables in your car, and today alone there were three break-ins while I was in the pool.  Steven, my swim coach, who I now also think is a saint, walked all the way out to my car in the snow (so that I did not have to get out of the pool and walk out to the car wet) and cleaned all my valuables out of the car and brought them inside so that they would not get stolen.  So grateful, I was.

We had a great swim set, and I got in 3400 meters.  Workout as follows:

• 400 swim
• 300 IM
• 6 x 50 drill/swim
• 6 x 25 build
• 300 pull
• 6 x 50 dec @ :50
• 300 pull no paddles
• 4 x 75 build @ 1:20
• 300 swim
• 8 x 25 swim fast @ :25
• 200 kick
• 6 x 75 easy/ fast @ 1:40

OK, so we swam pretty long yardage intervals at pretty fast time intervals.  The workout was great and I loved my swim, but let me just tell you that getting out of the pool and into the showers and waiting for the water to heat up this time of year is JUST TERRIBLE.  I have never felt such cold.  When I swam in  62 degree water in the rain in Chicago, it did not seem as cold as the locker rooms seem this time of year.  Just miserable.

On the way home, my approaching hypothermia forced me to stop at Starbucks for an egg white sandwich and a decaf soy latte.  It was so delicious, and I felt better by the time I got to the bottom of my latte.  Now, I also got Ivan a tiny starbucks cookie or mini-scone, which he promptly threw into the garbage when we got home.  This filled me with bitterness and woe, as I feel it is my job to eat all the sweet treats that Ivan does not finish.  I checked the trash, and unfortunately he had thrown the mini-scone right on top of the dryer lint, coffee grounds and some unrecognizable gooey substance that rendered the situation inedible. It was a great tragedy.  

I got in a Gilad workout and had a free afternoon.  It was the greatest!!

Sunday: Pure Barre, Yoga and Swim Party

Today was cold.  It was windy and snowy and overcast, and we did not put a toe outside all day.  The brief seconds that I opened the door to let the cat in were more than enough.  There was no option for me to run without the jog stroller today, and it was just too cold to put Ivan in the jog stroller.  I think I have mentioned before that the guilt of a child's cold hands when you pull him from the jog stroller after you have been running is almost to great to bear.

Now, when I hiked with the Bambino Brigade a lot of the women would put those heating pouches in their children's mittens and boots.  Now, I would like to be with it enough to remember to keep things like that at the house, but I never think of it until the moment that I need it.  If I were the dedicated athlete that I would like to think I am, I would have packed myself off to REI and invested in all sorts of heating acoutrements before coming home to run.  That is, however, a lot of trouble, and I was up to my ears in making a shower curtain and shuffling through laundry and making meals and such for a certain two year old that I am pretty sure has had nothing but gummy vitamins and milk for the past three days.

I did, however, finally finish AND INSTALL my shower curtain which require a drill, screws and much difficult balancing on a step stool.  The effect is quite lovely and definitely made the bathroom quite a bit more glamorous.  It needs a bit more work, but the bulk of the endeavor is completed.  I find that home projects are, in theory, quite simple.  THE TIME involved, however, makes you understand how you would hire someone to handle these home things.

In the afternoon, I got in a Pure Barre workout, which hurts every time.  Then I got in a yoga session, which I desperately needed.

In the evening, we all trooped off to my swim party, where I was officially the worst Dirty Santa player of all time.  I bought some swim shampoo that I really wanted and picked it as my gift and then kept it.  I feel that this is behavior that Ebeneezer Scrooge or Lex Luthor would exhibit, and I plan to revisit my Dirty Santa strategy next year maybe.  BUT, I am very excited about my new shampoo!!

Saturday: Run and the Keeping of a Two Year Old's Social Schedule

So this morning was just lovely.  There was much green tea and smoked salmon sandwiches, until Ivan stepped on his portable DVD player and stopped it from working.  It was most unfortunate as the portable DVD player is about the only way that I can force Ivan into the jog stroller anymore.  It was hard times, but I finally got him into the jog stroller with a puzzle of all things.  Her worked away at the puzzle for four miles, and I thoroughly enjoyed listening to Pandora while I was running.

I usually just trudge along with my ipod shuffle when I run by myself.  I know every song that is coming up and at times it just gets downright depressing when I am humming along to the third round of some terrible song that I would not even admit to you that I listened to.  Pandora was actually great!!  I listened to a Ben Folds station which played all sorts of Regina Spektor and, Ben Folds and some Beatles.  It was kind of great, and I am going to use my Pandora option more often.

After my run, Ivan and I got read and headed off to a birthday party where he was well behaved, and I ate the first piece of pan pizza I had had since college.  Why is it so good??

Swim Christmas Party tomorrow.  It should be quite the experience.  I am taking Ivan!!

Friday: Day Off

Now yesterday, my blog post was DECIDEDLY LACKLUSTER, I mean honestly, when all I have to report on is the state of my hives, maybe I should just keep quiet.  Confession: I was watching a really riveting episode of Biography on A&E, and it was all about the career of Benny Hill.  He was so odd, but so funny, but so lonely.  I love a good Biography, and that Benny Hilly has been a mystery to me.  I am proud to report that Biography left no stone unturned!!

Today, however, I have many things on which to report.  For one, I am now not participating in the Red and Green meet tomorrow as it is actually next weekend, and I have my marathon.  So, no Christmas relay swim meet for me.  

Now, Ivan and I hopped up this morning to get him to swim, which was great.  His kicking is improving, and he can motor up and down the lanes on a kick board.  He has a fancy new competition swim suit, and is swimming underwater with goggles like a pro.  For 2.6 years old, I feel that I have a real prodigy on my hands.  

Now, after swim, I picked up a breakfast for myself at Starbucks and took Ivan to McDonalds, because I CLEARLY have some sort of mental illness that causes amnesia about previous play place experiences.  The play place was, as per usual, a raging disaster.  There were four women there who had each brought four children, there was a barefooted screamer, there was a bothersome child who tried to talk to me whilst I was reading my new issue of The New Yorker, and there was the inevitability of Ivan getting stuck at the top of one of the plastic towers and calling for me until I climbed up to the top and dragged him down lest I be thought a terrible mother.  Though I probably am a terrible mother for allowing Ivan to enter that great plastic fray of fast food.  

The level of noise inside the play place I can only compare to an asylum pre-antipsychotics: much wailing, gnashing of teeth, threats, squealing, running for no apparent reason to no apparent place and mattressed walls.  Of course when it was time to leave, after he had been knocked down several times, cried, been pushed, choked on chicken McNugget and had his happy meal toy stolen, he was still loathe to leave.  I carried him like a football while he cried and screamed and made me look like a kidnapper as we left.  

At home, I have never been happier to put anyone down for a nap.  It was a thrilling hour and a half of silence, before Ivan woke up and played around and I was overcome with a Yogurt World craving.  Like I said, my last experience there was great!!!  So, I packed up Ivan and thought that I would introduce him to his mother's favorite treat.  This was a mistake, as all my good intentions seem to me.  It had slipped my mind that there is a huge toy store next to Yogurt World.  The dastardly Learning Express had all its Christmas wares front and center.  There were blinking lights and whosits and whatsits, and my child was off at a dead sprint, skidding through the doors with wonder on his face.

He was so overwhelmed by all the toys that nothing could hold his attention, and he ran around in circles halfway picking up one toy before another caught his attention, and he was off and running again.  It was playplace all over again when I had to tackle Ivan and remove him from the store.  Yogurt World was a real drag for him after the toy store, and everyone drove home mad.  

Lovely.  Birthday party tomorrow!!