"NO SKATEBOARDING ALLOWED"
I work in a small town. Population approximately 6,000. I'm not sure if that's when students are in session or not. With Asbury College and Asbury Seminary (separate institutions) both in Wilmore, surely they give a boost to the small city's population for nine months of the year. So, what are the trials of a small town? What are the great evils that must be squashed? Apparently, it's teenage boys who want to skateboard - anywhere. Oooh. Nobody wants the skate rats grinding and generally loitering on their property. Not the college or the seminary - both landscapes rich with sloped sidewalks and curbs to do tricks on. It's a virtual skatepark; or about the best you can get around here. But, no, skateboarding is strictly prohibited on their campuses. Nobody else wants them around, either. Not businesses, not the seven trillion churches. Now, I DO understand their reasoning for this. They have their reasons - grown-up, boring reasons. But reasons.

Meanwhile, these reasons get the skaters chased all over town. Yelled at like they were caught defacing property or setting something on fire. These reasons, and the people who enforce them, generally make the kids feel like criminals. Criminals who have no place in this town. There's a severe lack of grace going on here. I don't know all of them, by far, but I know a few of them. And they're GOOD kids. Kids who enjoy skateboarding. Which, for a 12-year-old in a small town in the middle of summer, really doesn't sound like a bad idea. They're socializing with each other, enjoying being outside, getting exercise, and let's face it - not smoking things, doing drugs, or having sex. Sounds cool to me.

The other day, my friend's son was hanging out with his skater buddies in the parking lot of the local baptist church. When he saw an adult authority figure come out of the church, he cringed. Just two weeks earlier, he had been harshly yelled at for WALKING with his skateboard NEAR the seminary grounds. Wow. So, his apprehension was understood. The adult approached them and they waited for their tongue lashing. This man, turns out the pastor of the church, said, "Hey guys. Looks like you could use some Ale-8s." He then proceeded to walk all of them across the street to IGA and buy them all an Ale-8. Hoorah, Mr. Baptist Pastor! Thank you for setting an example. Thank you for showing some grace. Thank you for remembering what it's like to be a kid. And thank you for showing these kids that not all Christian authority figures are the same.

Cravings and Fillings
Thoughts from Week 22
Last night, right after work, Andy and I went to the gym together, for the first time in a long time. We just hadn’t been doing a good job coordinating our trips. I did 35 minutes on the elliptical and got off with the thought that maybe I would lift a few weights until Andy was ready to go. By the time I stretched and drank some water, I realized I was exhausted! Like, lay down on the floor right there exhausted. I looked at Andy for the head nod. Good, he was ready to go too.

We got home where Andy made us a bunch of spaghetti with meat sauce and a Caesar salad. I had plenty to fill me up, although not what I would call a ridiculous amount. I didn’t get heartburn or any other nasty side effect. But for the rest of the night, all the way up until going to bed, my belly was so full and stretched out tight! I felt 30 weeks pregnant – not that I know what that feels like. I laid in bed, feeling like my stomach would explode at any moment, thinking – I have 18 more weeks of this?? I am relieved this morning to have it feel somewhat normal again.

Also, Andy told me yesterday that I looked as big as some women do when they’re about to give birth. Despite what I just said about feeling like I would explode, I knew my stomach looked the same as it had. So, I told him this wasn’t true, although my relatively expert opinion on such matters does not always register with him. Boy, is he in for a shock.

It is Friday. I am eating a chocolate chip cookie Angie brought me back from the bank. (I love First Southern.) It is so good. I could eat twelve more. It fills me with the desire to spend entire the weekend in the kitchen making baked goods and eating them all. Interspersed with ball park nachos smothered in cheese. Literally. I have these desires regularly. Luckily, I usually don't act on them. In fact, despite of having thoughts of how good some nachos would be off and on for a few months now, I have yet to reach the point of desperation where I HAVE to go find some. Maybe one of these days, nachos will present themself to me, and they will taste so, so good.

This week our baby is the size of a spaghetti squash. Spaghetti, hmph. How ironic.

Cankles and Punk Rawk Shows
Thoughts from Week 18
A heat wave worthy of August has swept thru in early June. Hitting 90 or more every day, it feels like the dog days have hit us early. Also hitting early for me are swollen ankles which have appeared this week. Thankfully, I have found that the more I can keep them up while sitting, I can control their girth. Also seeming to help are drinking a lot, doing some type of exercise each day, and a nice combo of being on my feet and sitting (too much of one or the other, they say, is not good.) I find swollen ankles to be so unsightly, I relish the sight of my normal, slender ones when I see them! (maybe because it's the only remaining "slender" part of me, hmm?)

I can still climb the stairs two at a time. I discover this when I really have to go to the bathroom and the downstairs one is occupied.

This weekend Andy built a fire pit in our backyard. So Sunday night we (he) built a fire, and we grilled hot dogs and marshmallows. Hurley laid under my chair and Elsa stayed on the deck (they are both semi-afraid of the fire, but obviously Elsa more so). It was perfect. Not that we won’t do those types of things with a baby, but I’m just enjoying the quiet moments with just the two of us.

This Saturday we also went out to Ichthus for the evening. Despite torrential rains the night before, which had cancelled the entire evening’s program, the weather was great. We hung out with Melissa, Chris and Anna. The highlight was MxPx taking the Deep End stage at 11:30. I have not seen them live in 3 years and it was great to see them again – like seeing old friends. It was surreal, as a pregnant woman, standing out in a grassy field at midnight, listening to loud punk rock music, wondering if the baby could feel Mike's bass in his protected haven. Surreal, but awesome. I love to see my long-time favorite band weave itself back into the moments of my changing life.

This week our baby is the size of a bell pepper.

What Was That?
Thoughts from Week 17
I think I felt my baby move for the first time. I had just gotten home from a brisk walk, where I ran for 5 minutes at the end. With the humidity, it only took me about 2 minutes into my running jaunt to start sweating profusely and my face to flare up bright red. Whew, am I glad I’m not out there trying to make a couple of miles of running happen.

So I had been home for about 10 minutes, was chatting with Andy in the kitchen while he made dinner, and I had just sat down on the couch with a tall glass of ice water and my book. After a few minutes I felt the most curious sensation in my abdomen. It was so unique to anything I had ever felt before, I actually started to giggle and couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. Suddenly everyone else's descriptions of bubbles, flutters, and butterflies all seemed to make sense. It lasted 5-7 seconds, maybe. I’ve decided not to tell anyone else what I think until it happens again (and again and again) and I know for sure that that was my baby I felt. But man, was it cool. I cannot wait for it to happen again! A few hours later, I couldn't help myself. I looked over at Andy and with a grin said, I have a secret. ☺

The Invasion of the Stretchy Panel
Thoughts from Week 13
Today, Tuesday April 29th, I wore maternity pants for the first time. I was sick of my limited wardrobe, of trying to find yet another work appropriate outfit that didn't feel so uncomfortable against my bloated belly. And when my friend Jenni gave them to me she said, you’ll probably want to wear these more early on. Indeed, they are much more fitted than some of the pants I’ve been given already. In fact, they look like completely normal khakis on me, they’re just stretchy at the top – which, let me tell you, is totally awesome. Kind of makes you want to wear maternity pants for the rest of your life.

But why am I even offering a defense, you ask? Who cares if I wear maternity pants? I am pregnant, after all - isn't that what they're for? I guess that enough people telling you they could wear their regular clothes until 20 weeks will make a girl feel a little self-conscious that she’s getting fat too quickly. But if I start now, the comparisons will never stop. So, all guilt aside, this morning I pulled on the pants that fit.

I’m comfortable and I look good (I think). What else can you ask for really?

This week our baby is the size of a lime. Mmm, margaritas.

Puppy Dog Tails
On Sunday afternoon, my friend Shannan and I went shopping and browsing for decoration ideas for the baby's room. I've already purchased a bedding set- a compromise, if you will, of Andy's and my tastes - at a steal. I also know what colors I want to paint the walls. Based on the style and colors of the bedding (plaids and stripes of navy, baby blue, white, red and khaki), there were two potential "theme" paths the decor could go down that I wanted to avoid - nautical and Americana. But knowing where I didn't want to go still left a broad unknown expanse for where I did want to go. Shannan was a great help and I trust her judgment, besides the fact that she's just fun to shop with. We even roamed around Babies 'R' Us, because it's on the other side of Lexington, and I hadn't even been in there since I've been pregnant. This trip to BRU probably only worsened my case of baby consumerism disdain (not to mention my state of overwhelmed-ness), but it was still kinda fun nonetheless.

After Shannan had to go on to her book club meeting, I continued solo to Burlington Coat Factory. I knew they had a large baby section, called Baby Depot, but I had not been in there myself yet. Left free to roam by myself, I leisurely looked over a lot of stuff - including a lot of adorable baby clothes. I do this in almost any store I go in on a regular basis that has a baby section - Wal-mart, Target, Kohl's, etc. And let me tell you, I have amazing restraint. Knowing that people love to buy baby clothes, I have reminded myself to focus on buying the stuff that other people won't or can't pick out for you. With all of the sage wisdom and maturity I can muster, I've walked out of baby department upon baby department, feeling fulfilled enough with just browsing and dreaming. Until this point, I have allowed myself one indulgence - a blue & white striped onesie that says "My heart belongs to mommy," purchased the week we found out it was a boy. It was $3.

On Sunday, I was on my way out of Burlington, the last store of the day, and almost home free. Then, I saw this, and all resolve melted faster than a cup of sugar in hot water. I am a SUCKER for babies and kids in sleepers - footed, fuzzy, one-piece pajamas that button all the way up the front.
When we were growing up, we called them zuzuits. At least that's how I pronounced and spelled it (once I could spell). I learned much later on that the reason we called them such, was because my parents had a grown-up joke between themselves that the sleepers looked like zoot suits. Not knowing what the heck a zoot suit was, throw in a little lazy Pittsburghese speech, and us kids called them zuzuits, mostly unaware that the rest of the world had no idea what we were talking about.

There on the rack was a blue and brown striped fuzzy zuzuit with a little puppy embroidered on the side. I knew instantly that if my tiny little baby boy were to wear this outfit, I would never be able to stop snuggling him. It took a moment of debating before my heart beat out my practicality. Out came the debit card, and I shelled out $10 for something he will surely outgrow in 3.5 seconds.

But I do not care. You only have your first baby once. And I promise not to abuse that somewhat valid rationalization.

Dog Tired
Hurley and Elsa's first race! On May 31st, the Jessamine County Humane Society hosted a 5K at nearby Camp Nelson. A bunch of friends came out and ran. In the spirit of the event, you could also run the race with your dog. Andy ran with Elsa and, with me not feeling up for a race and feeling chintzy about the entry fee, Hurley ran with our friend Renee. I cheered on my babies. :)

About a mile in, the first time they passed us. Elsa is looking tired already. Hurley was as bouncy as ever.




Andy and Elsa approaching the finish line. Andy said she was dragging a little, but picked up the pace when she recognized me. Look at that tongue! They were the second human/dog pair to finish.


Peter and me running Hurley (and Renee) into the finish. Look at him looking over at me! Hey mom, look at me! I was so proud.


The whole group of us that were there. Our friend Kris was here from Germany for our friend Clarissa's wedding (later that day), and she wanted to run a local race. Elissa, in the red hat, was the third female overall to finish and several others placed in their age group. Everyone who ran received a door prize of some sort.


The most well-behaved dogs: tired ones.


Happy Family (plus one you can't see).

Baby Likes It Sweet
I have started to put up snippets from weeks past in my pregnancy journal. I am currently 22 (and a half) weeks and much fatter. Enjoy.
Thoughts from Week 11
My new guilty pleasure? Sweet tea from McDonald’s. I’ve always liked iced tea – well, ever since I came south and realized that people drank tea a LOT different than my mom. Unsweetened tea is not my favorite – and adding artificial sweeteners never seemed really worth it. Just give me a Coke already. But brewed sweet tea? YUM. But really, it’s never been a huge temptation, what with coffee and Coke around as big favorites and exisiting temptations. That is, until coffee was unceremoniously struck from my daily repetoire.

I’ve read extensively (online of course) about pregnancy and caffeine. I decided that a little coffee each morning was still a safe, not reckless thing for me to do. And let’s face it – me without caffeine in the morning is much more risky to the lives of my coworkers and my general well-being. You gotta weigh these things out, people. Then the nausea started and coffee became… not disgusting, but certainly not appealing. I just couldn’t bring myself to drink it. For a little while, I’d get myself a small mug and carry it around with me everywhere I went. I'd take the tiniest of sips and by the time it was cold, I realized I had drunk none of it. I finally gave up the charade. My other caffeine go-to, Coke, became almost as equally unappealing most of the time. Something about the carbonation was just not sitting well with my stomach. Then one morning in a lethargic stupor of routine, wondering how I would get through the morning, I remembered the $1 sweet tea from McDonald’s. Oh yum – now that sounded good. Now, my mornings are spent trying to get ready fast enough to allow time to roll through my local Mickey D’s for my pick-me-up (and maybe some hash browns). And it is so so good.

In comes the guilty part of the pleasure. The cups they give you are ginormous. Unlike, say, a can of Coke, I have no idea how much caffeine is in one of them. I’ve tried googling it. So I try (with restraint) to only drink half of one in a day. It’s working for me. But I will say that I still miss my coffee. Andy says it’s just the habit that I miss. I’m dubious.

This week our baby is the size of a fig. (Is that close to a fig newton?)

**Update: As of week 22, I have broken my addiction to sweet tea, which is probably good for my sugar intake. I still like it once in awhile. Also as of this week, small amounts of morning coffee have made their way back into my favorite mugs to be (mostly) enjoyed! I'm saving a package of sealed Dunkin Donuts coffee for when the love affair is in full swing again. Baby steps.

Blogging for Two
If you ever read my blog in the past, I'm sure you discovering that I'm suddenly writing on here again will be pure happenstance. Surely you all gave up checking for new posts a long, long time ago. I do not blame you.

If you know me personally, which you probably do if you read this, then you also probably know that I am pregnant with our first child. Interestingly enough, my due date is almost one year after my last post - November 9, 2008. Who would have known. I am currently 22 weeks pregnant. From the first week I found out I was pregnant, I have tried to keep a journal of my thoughts along the way. I'm really terrible at journaling, but I have managed to record at least something, once a week or so. I thought I would share some parts of that journal. Here are some of my first trimester thoughts on running and exhaustion as pregnant woman.

Sometime in week 7, I realized something had to change. I hadn’t run since Good Friday (the start of week 6). I had a good 4 mile run that day, and I felt like myself again. But the sickness really hit that weekend, and on top of being tired, I just stopped running after that altogether. I either didn’t have the energy or was too busy hunting down food to make me feel better. So, in the midst of week 7 (almost week 8) I emailed Shannan, my best friend and running partner, to gripe. I was in a rut. I didn’t have enough energy to do anything besides lay on the couch every night, but the more I did that, the worse I felt. I never felt rested for all the resting I was doing, and worse, I began to grow sick of resting. I expected the bed (couch) sores to start at any moment. I told Shannan that I really wanted to run again, and more importantly, I wanted to be able to run in the Derby half-marathon that was 3.5 weeks away. If I didn’t start doing something soon, I was going to miss my fifth straight year of doing this race. I needed to do a long run to convince myself I could do it (and that I could do the small runs during the week), but the mere thought of having to get up at 6:15 to meet the 7 AM Saturday running group to do a long run made me exhausted (much less actually doing it).

Shannan encouraged me by admitting that her own training had left her sort of worn-out. She proposed we meet on Saturday – at the time of my choosing – and do a slow, easy long run. This was the invitation I needed and I agreed. That Saturday we met at her house on a very pleasant 50 degree morning at 9:30. Two hours later, we had run about 11.5 miles. I was sore and creaky in my body, but my mood and outlook was fantastic. I WAS a runner. I could do this. I felt happier the rest of the day than I had felt in weeks.

I got two more runs and two walks in the rest of the week. The next weekend I faced doing a long run a way I never do it – in Nicholasville and alone. I slept in until I knew I was well rested, charged up my iPod and lounged on the couch until I could ignore it no longer. At 11:30, I headed out by myself, with the plan to stop back at the house at about 5 miles for some Gatorade and a break. I had no idea what to expect. It went great and I ran for an hour and 50 minutes – which I figured out to be around 10.5 miles. I breathed a sigh of relief – I WAS going to run this race. Then, I napped.

This week our baby is the size of a kidney bean.