THE MISS Q
We’re working on numbers and shapes.

This happens to be his favorite. Fitting, since he was nearly born on Valentine’s Day (missed it by 90 minutes).

We’re working on numbers and shapes.

This happens to be his favorite. Fitting, since he was nearly born on Valentine’s Day (missed it by 90 minutes).
Chicago Marathon: 10-13-13

I’ve written bits and pieces before about the Chicago Marathon, but truly, my posts don’t do it justice.

It is remarkable to watch. It is extraordinary just to be in the crowd. Jeez…can you imagine what it’s like to actually be running in it?

When I was a city gal, I would watch the elite runners fly by from our windows (five stories up) on the final mile. Once I picked my jaw up off the floor, I would grab my sign, my keys, and some water, and head down to the street. The sign I made was the same every single year: Run with heart.

For about six hours, I would yell passionately and enthusiastically:

Keep going, don’t stop!
You’re doing great!
Turn the corner, the finish line is right there! (true story)
Go, go, go…don’t give up!
Last mile, last mile!
C’mon Hawkeyes!!!!! (alma mater, ride or die)
Kick this marathon’s ass!

You know how most marathoners put their names on their shirts? Well, I would scream the hell out of your name. Nothing made me more excited than to give runners a personal shout-out during one of the toughest runs of their lives. It’s exhilarating to make that connection as anyone who runs knows that when your energy is GONE that even the slightest encouragement will help you eek out a few more steps. And a few more after that. And a few more after that.

I’ve seen some pretty intense stuff standing along that final mile. Blood stained shirts, a few tumbles to the ground, pleading glances from pained participants, tears streaming down faces, and those who are hobbling along while battling injury and/or exhaustion. It’s brutal and emotional.

A few years back my cousin ran, and I kept waiting for her to show up so I could flip my sign over to show her my special shout-out. By the time she came around, girlfriend was limping and struggling. Fortunately, she was running alongside my other cousin (TEAMWORK!) but she still needed a little bit of help. So I pulled her arm over my shoulder, threw my sign to the side of the road, and I ran her to the finish line. When spectators saw what was happening, they broke into intense cheering. Keep going! Get her there! Keep going! Tears were pouring down my face when I watched her cross that finish line…it was so beautiful and so humbling that I’m getting choked up now just thinking about it (forever filed under ‘the coolest moments of my life’).

That seems to be the power of this race. It can send you to the lowest lows and build you right back up to the highest highs. It can break the strongest. It can inspire the weakest. And yes, it can even have these affects on spectators.

I’ve tried to reach out to some fellow Tumblrs who are running; just hoping to send some extra love and encouragement. Should you wish to follow their racing journeys, here they are:
Elizabeth of One-Twenty-Five (her fourth(!) marathon)
Alishan of Awesomeness Abounds (a working mama who trained her a$$ off)
Jamie of Teeth Bracelet (witty + cool gal, her first marathon)

Good luck to all. I wish so badly I could be there to cheer you on. My sign is not there, but my well-wishes are being dispersed through the universe as we speak. Run with heart. And also? KICK THAT MARATHON’S ASS!

Juxtapositions

We have some friends that live nearby- Kelly and JD. We switched lives from urban to suburban around the same time, so as two like-minded couples we sort of cling to each other. Our kiddos are two months apart (a set of boy/girl twins for them, Wells for us). The first time we had them over for dinner, all of the kids were between 2-4 months old. Please just imagine the scene at my dining room table: 

  • 4 seriously bleary-eyed parents 
  • 3 wiggly bambinos
  • Couple of oversized diaper bags lingering nearby
  • A homemade pizza and salad that was sloppily consumed (full hands syndrome) in about 10 minutes 
  • Conversation that carried on without a single wince or distraction any time a tiny set of lungs shrieked or threw a pacifier across a plate

It was riotous and fun. One of my favorite parts of that night was when JD started talking about the weird juxtaposition of parenting. It is so exhaustive, so consuming, so tolling on your body and your mind that you find yourself craving alone time to do practically anything- brush your teeth! Go to the bathroom! Flip through a magazine! Sit in complete silence! 

BUT

It was what he said next hit the nail right on the head.  

"Parenting is hard, I get that…but then when you’re away from them? You become fixated on thoughts of them and what they are doing. Despite craving that time alone, you actually spend it missing them."

ABSOLUTE BIZARRE TRUTH.

I bring this up because Wells is spending the weekend with my sister while Fitz and I head to Nashville for an anniversary celebration of sorts. Despite the fact that I am with Wells everyday, that we are best pals, and that he behaves fantastically when away from us, it doesn’t negate the fact that leaving him will always-always-always be hard on the heart. 

kateoplis:

Don’t forget your brain.

Mmm hmm.

A little love.

A little love.

Be still my heart. 

Friday, Quickly
  • Me against three: one in the Ergo, two in the double stroller #zonedefense
  • Lardons, and why they need to be in my life on a consistent basis
  • Lunges: a necessary evil (damn…they are SO FREAKING EVIL)
  • Lord & Taylor Customer Service sucking my will to live (if I didn’t have this gift card, they’d be dead to me)
  • Steamed broccoli, marinara, and ground turkey
  • My dad, always the helper (I love you so much)
  • My nails, pitiful and unfortunate-looking
  • Smiles for when Fitz comes home tomorrow, bringing dinner and excitement for NCAA games
  • Amazon Prime for birthday gifts because I ran out of time and I am review-obsessed (Hi, Jessica!)
  • As I put Wells to sleep, he reached his little hand up and placed it over my heart. Magical moments in parenting that reach right down into your soul.
This is no fluke. This team is good…very good.
Sportscaster commenting on Florida Gulf Coast University as they clinch a shocking victory over San Diego State, and become the first 15-seed to ever advance to the Sweet Sixteen.

(this is what happens when you play with heart) 
Words would fly right from out of my mind
Out of my mind into your heart and into your life
And everything would sound just right
And no one would stop me from drinking my wine
Robin Thicke
'Dreamworld' 
Searching and searching and searching

Today’s many art posts/reblogs brought you courtesy of my frustrated imagination, as I have lived in this house for nearly a full year with an empty mantle. 

The quest for art that steals my heart continues…