My Uterus is a Speed Bag

Baby of Mystery is 24.5 weeks in the making. Having been baked at 350 for mulitple months now, I feel I can gauge the kind of ninja this VERY.LAST.BABY. might be...

B.O.M. doesn't need much sleep. Instead, the tiny ninja's hours are widdled away with kickboxing practice, bladder trampolining and general arcobatic warm-up. Sometimes, this is too much excitement and hiccups can follow training sessions. And while I would hope that it's a means to slow down one active fetus, it only serves as a minor disruption to what would otherwise be filled with an engaged game of Poke the Mystery Organ.

Spleen! It's been awhile!

Friday, B.O.M. and I get to go for an unscheduled ultrasound with the fetal specialist. Because, if you're a child from the loins of Gann, it is prerequisted that alarms blare and heartrates elevate for fear that something might be afoot. In B.O.M's case, all sirens point to a skipping heartbeat. Drat. I was hoping to make this one problem-free. And quiet.

FAIL.

In any case, I'm not overly panicky. The Alarmist Mother is hiding in a dark pantry somewhere hoping to relish the last of the annual Christmas Godiva in peace while Regular Mom is busy bribing the Old Babies- for the zillionth time to please, please, please, for the love of carmel truffles, stop arguing and get that out of your sister's nose.

Keep you posted...

Revisiting the Bucket List and a Brand New Triathlete

 Racking my newest, sweetest toy in the early hours of the morning.

 The goal.

 The swim.

 The bike.

 The run.

The very satisfied TRIATHLETE ;)

Little more than a month ago, I updated with news that I had begun participating in 5ks. And while happy with my new-found sport, I think somewhere inside I was longing for a greater challenge. See, I have this bucket list. It includes things like; skydive, eco-tour South America, become a published writer, learn to appreciate the fabulous writing style that is Herman Melville-- in particular, Moby Dick (ugh, how I struggled with that little gem) and many other wonderful things that make my heart beat a little faster. One of the I'll-get-to-it-one-day items included the simple phrase, push your body to it's limit.

Option A: become a contortionist. Option B: become a triathlete. 

Fortunately for me I have wonderfully talented friends-- friends that are motivating and encouraging and make the cutest children. One is an Ironman, the other is his wife (who is no less impressive). Neither, to my knowledge, are contortionists. 

Thanks to them, I've sweated my way into enough shape to compete in my first triathlon (with a chest cold...sorry about the snotty jellyfish trailing behind me in the pool). :o
Between the Dream Team and Big Daddy, (side note to BD: if it weren't for your constant and unwavering support, none of this fabulousness would exist. I love you) it appears nearly anything is possible.

So now I'm a baby triathlete (since it was just a sprint triathlon), but one day I hope to be a big triathlete, maybe-- dare I say--even and IronGirl. Until then, I'll happily swim, bike and run, content in having lined through item #6.

Freedom Weekend Aloft Meets High Humidity

Oh the South...

Beautiful scenery, friendly people, ridiculously high humidity. It's enough to make the curly hair on my children's heads even curlier (just when I thought they'd maxed out on cuteness).

Each year on Memorial weekend, the Upstate hosts this wonderful event- the highlight, hot air balloons. I had hoped that my fascination-with-hot-air-balloons gene was passed on to the tots... SCORE! I mean, what's not to totally and awesomely love?

Here are some highlights from the sticky (but FUN) day.

 Kovi patiently waits for...

 this. Heaven on -toot toot- many wheels.

 Ever watches the balloons fill... she's slightly hesitant leave her Daddy's arms upon spotting the 14 foot flames.

 Kovi and Rylin look on.

 A Little sandwich of Love.

Little Miss Memorial Day <3

Lakeing, Stump House Tunnelling and Waterfalling

A few weekends back the fam packed a few (cumbersome) totes, roughly $10,000 in Power Aid beverages and the camera and headed towards a nearby historic site...

Our first stop, Stump House Tunnel.

You can read about it here. 

In brief summation, it's a big-ass, leaky tunnel, chilly and dark. In other words, it meets the requirements of entertainment for both toddlers and teenagers. Amazing, I know. 

The boys venture into the tunnel... it was really dark, but thankfully Donovan's neon green shoes and hot pink shirt gave the space an unusually ravey vibe.

Ruby steers, but, like most 7-year-old drivers, fails to signal left.

 I like this picture for several reasons; the level of activity is routine, the side pony moose hair Kovi sports is not out of place either. What I love is Tyler's complete immersion in child-safety coupled with Kovi's River Dance pose. Four Stars.

 More of that child-safety.

 My favorite picture of the season.

Her Highness, Butter-Thighs

 After the tunnel, we marched over to Issaqueena Falls, a gorjew waterfall reputed for it's local lore, Indian Princess meets Long Drop Down.

 Kovi is pained having to be photographed yet again. Geez MOM.

 Classic.Thanks kids.

 Thoughts of pushing someone off of the rock dance through Kovi's head.

 Finally, we ended up at the lake, where the Littlest Engineers built an impressive sand city.

 And finished the day off with a hot dong.

Thomas Meets The Ganns

 Auntie Cindy and Cousin Neal were thoughtful enough to remember that we have wild, nearly unentertainable Littles and delivered (in well-packed and wonderfully accurate, labeled bins) Thomas and loads of locomotive accoutrement.

 Conductor Kovi quickly claimed dibs on the hat, the trains, the tracks and, obviously, the table.

 Ever ended up with this stick which she fed to one of the little engines.

 Excited that we might capture the Thomas moment together, I handed Daddy the camera. But the Conductor's focus was on all the brightly-colored little engines and the location of his sister's chubby little hands.

 In Ever's excitement she'd forgotten to close her mouth upon kissing. This is a rare shot because if her mouth is at all open, it's mostly because she's about to shovel food into it. Ask Daddy what happened to his burrito when he thought he's "share" with her. 

 Sweet Littles and Kovi cleans the engines the way a real conductor aught.

 Train Shmame. Ever is far more interested in being a mama. She how well she maintains the baby's body temperature?

Dang cute though, huh?

THANK YOU Auntie Cindy and Neal for your generous contribution to the Occupy-The-Littles Foundation. We are in your debt. 

Choo Choo.

Swamp Rabbit 5k Meets A Mighty Wind

You know how when you sign up to do these fabulously concocted ideas, like paint a bathroom at 11 o'clock at night or rescue a super hairy, fence-jumping, laundry room-eating gazelle/pup or run a mostly uphill 5k with the most wicked side-ache ever unmedically recorded... 

You know how ALL these ideas sound super great in the beginning? 

Then... the dog pees on your brand new rug. 

Oh. You do? Enter YOU empathizing with me...

So there I was, half mile into the race, enjoying the flop-plop-puuuff (left, right, exhale) rhythm I'd established when, rather suddenly, amid a pack of wildly unshaven 20-somethings (mostly men), I sensed the creeping tinge of a sucker punch. Three flop-plop-puffs later the radiating heat boiling from my volcanic rib cage began melting the pavement into gooey, asphalty road pudding. It was so hot, that the wildly unshaven pack of mostly men had to stop for water because they'd suddenly been transported via Swamp-Rabbit Trail to the Sahara (where, incidentally, there aren't any swamps or rabbits). 

Slowing down to a flllllop-plllllop-yelp, I tried breathing, stretching and finally bartering with the rabid side-eater. 

Me to Side Ache: Listen, I reeeeally want to do this race, Man. Can we just agree to simmer down for the next 20 minutes...then, you can have free reign to terrorize to your heart's (or ribcage's) content? Whadda say? I'll even let you saddle-up with Puke Throat for a little bit when we're done. Deal?

Side Ache to Me: Heh, heh, heh...you'll  never catch me now! 

Me thinking aloud: Funny, that's exactly what Kovi says to me when he's gotten away with something. What the...

At Mile 2 I was sure my guts we're flailing behind me like an intestinal kite tail. It was windy that day, so hopefully they looked pretty. 

Squinting and praying, I limppity-plopped along trying not to focus on the pain but on the scenery instead. Oooh look, a dude pushing a baby-laden stroller just passed me. Hey wait, so did that guy with the dark glasses and cane. What! Three-toed sloth... even you? 

Options: A- curl into very tight, very fetal ball, curse and wait for someone to come find me, preferably after dark so as to camouflage my shame . B- keep limppity-plopping along because eventually I'll either die or finish the stupid race- which, in both scenarios is an end to my suffering. 

So I opted for B with A flavor... scoot along while cursing. 

The shirts just ahead read things like ACHIEVE and JUST DO IT. One More Step and I Eat Marathons For Breakfast. RUN!

Ok Self...do what the shirts tell you. Then, out of no where a rogue Hanes jogged into view. It was an Avenged Sevenfold tour tee and it read:

Nightmare.

Precisely. 

The woman is precariously balanced on a street light screaming to the runners, "Just one more block! Do you hear the music? Just one more block!" 

I do! I DO hear the music! YAY! MUSIC! "It's the FINAL" Limppity, lippity..."Countdown!" 

1/4 mile later and cursing the street light lady's poor sense of measurement, I crossed the finish line. The fire from my side ache had melted my most of competitors AND the time clock, which sucks because now I'll have to run another 5k. 

In Liberty. In two weeks.

Whoooooooa. The FINAL Countdown. Do do do dooo.

* A special thanks to all my sponsors... Kovi, Ever, Big Daddy, bag of mostly eaten Chex Mix- thanks guys. I probably would have opted for A had it not been for you. And to Kate and Josh...the real runners, thanks for the inspiration. Looking forward to many more 5ks, minus the evil little side aches. :)

Woodland Pixie Party

 Ever's invitations requested that her fairy friends meet her in The Clearing next to Sweet Pea Pond...

 where they could seek refuge under looming, arched flowers.

 No fairy den is complete without it's Whimsical Wigwam and mushroom stools

 Pixie perch

 Flowers bespeckled her forest...

 while the butterflies kept watch above.

 It truly was.

 Her Pixienesses spread- fairy delights and spritely vittles

 Woodland animals guarded for unauthorized trespassers

A teeny fairy house, decked out with Fairy Party Flair

 All are WELCOME, if you are small enough to fit through the door

 Mini msuhrooms

 Bigger mushrooms

 A sweet spot to rest

 The most important ingredient...

 besides her

 Her Pixieness,

 more royal than The Royals,

                                                                  sweeter than Splenda

 Heart-melter <3

 Fairy Niece with her Fairy Auntia

 The Elf...he's mostly the mischievous kind

 Cousin fairies, twice the pretty

 See...mischievous

 Fairy crafts

 keep The Elf happy

 the same way food keeps her happy

 Honorary Fairy, Lainey Kate

Fairies love games, Peek-A-Boo

 and gifts

 especially gifts with BABIES in them!

A cakey delight for my little delectable.

Happy Fairy Birthday Ever!!