I am behind.

Behind on the laundry. (Not that I am ever really ahead on the laundry, but right now, there may be small animals hibernating in the laundry baskets for all I know...or care. I hope at least they're small dogs. Alice really likes dogs.)

Behind on blogging. (Meghan threatened me with physical violence on Facebook if I did not update my blog. Extreme, especially considering I see her every day. She could just ask what is going on with me instead of the punch to my face that she promised would come my way. )

Behind on my workouts. (I missed a few last week. I HATE THAT. This week, all are done. But, then again, it is Wednesday. Big Whoop. Plenty of time left to eff it all up and sleep through my swim or bag the run. Fighting against that scenario though.)

What is taking up all my time, you ask?

Well, besides getting the equivalent of graduate degree in all things "Jersey Shore" (like crack, I must say), my time been has fairly evenly split between Snooki, Pauly D and closet cleaning. Then packing boxes. Then repeat. Ad infintum.

Yep. We're moving.

A whole mile away. Literally, it can't be more than a mile. Same neighborhood. Just a different house.

One that works a little better for us. Open floor plan as opposed to our current one where I can't see any kids from anywhere unless they are literally climbing up my legs to cry and whine and/or screaming bloody murder in some far off corner of the house where after a full on sprint I realize the cause to be Alice is unable to take the child proof caps off the dog's medicine to ingest it as she desires, a nightly scenario.

YAHOO for the new house. YAHOO for open floor plans. YAHOO for an actual laundry room. YAHOO for the second staircase off the master bedroom that the house inspector called the "Jon Benet stairs".

Wait, scratch that last part.

Whatever, this is Atlanta, not Boulder. And I am so excited. Like, dreaming-about-it-at-night-excited. Like, I am-sure-the-current-owner-is-about-to-call-the-cops-on-me- 'cause-he-knows-my-car-and-I-drive-by-about-once-a-day-just-to-see-it excited.

Move is in mid March/early April. From now until then, I will be like Eminem....cleaning out my closet. (That's where the similarity ends though...no misogynistic rapping, Moby feud starting, slapping my mom with a lawsuit outta me. Unless you cross me, Mom.)

It's been too long. Some recent shots....

Alice is happy to help clean the floor for the move. But, apparently, not her mouth.


E's pumped for the new house as well. The new pool table and creek in the yard sealed the deal for her.


Alice's "ankles", if you can call them that. She was standing next to me today and I just had to take a picture of the chub. It will soon be gone and I will forget how exquisite they were.


Mike's really excited about the new house, too. And I think this Wii tennis shot really shows how excited he is that we have a new house and have not yet sold our current house. So exciting for Mike. Yessir. :)


Me. Excited for the house and to be swimming in a suit that does not show everything to everyone in the pool like my suit that I wore all last week only to realize what the chlorine had done to the fabric...too late. Show's over LA Fitness.

The Competition

90% of my training is solo.

It has to be. I swimbikerun at odd times, my workouts are so specific, I have two little kids, blah, blah. There are REASONS. Good ones. I promise, I have friends. :)

Well, the 90% of the solo training time leaves me a lot of thinking time.

Dangerous.

And right now. In the cold, dreary winter. With my next triathlon 3 months away...

My favorite recurring training thoughts are of the girl I am going to beat next year.

Those thoughts make me smile.

A jerky smirk is more like it.

Those thoughts fuel me. They make my intervals faster, they keep me going when my body would prefer to sit on the couch watching "Jersey Shore" instead of running 12 miles in the rain. In January.

This girl is getting her a$$ handed to her at Gulf Coast. Left in the dust at John Tanner. Dropped like a hot potato at ING Half Mary.

The girl? Yeah, she's me. Last year.

2010 Kate's race plan? Kick 2009 Kate's ass.

2010 Kate is kind of a jerk. She's older AND faster.

Eat it, last year me.

Occupation

Race applications are digging deeper this year, it seems.

In addition to my name, age, address, estimated swim time, and money, they want to know my triathlon accomplishments (huh?), who is coming to the race to cheer for me (I put "Tiger Woods") and then the kicker, my occupation.

Good question, race director. Good freaking question.

You mean my job, right?

Homemaker? Nah. Sounds too much like I work construction. Plus, I feel it implies an expertise (cleaning, cooking fancy stuff, etc.) and interest (learning to clean and cook fancy stuff, etc.) that I lack.

I settled on "stay at home mom". Sounded accurate. Well, sort of. I am more of a "let's get out of this house before I go stir crazy" mom as opposed to one who stays. Cooking chateaubriand while scouring the baseboards.

Either way, it has been on my mind lately.

Got me thinking and realizing that it has been almost 5 years since the slight cramping in my 8th month of pregnancy with Ella hastened the (dreaded) bed rest and the end of my life in advertising. Just like that....poof!

Unemployed.
But, working.
Just not getting paid.

Strange job.
Awesome benefits.

I thought I would go back. Definitely at a year. Certainly at a year.

Then I became a mom.

And all my "ideas" of what I was going to do and what I should do changed. I thought they might. But, then again, I had no idea. I was too pissed that they gave my desk to someone else at work.

Everyone is different. Every family figures out what works for them. This works for us. Won't forever....when that time comes and I've been out of work for XX years, who knows what I will put down on my race apps???

'Cause you know, that is the most important thing. That and payback for whoever stole my damn desk five years ago.

Cold as *%$@

Yeah, it is that cold here. (Fake)cursing-in-a-blog-post-title cold.

My trusty iphone, who accompanies me on most every run, told me that it was colder here in Georgia, than it was in Winston-Salem (believable) AND Boston (WHAT?!?!).

Single digits are in the forecast.

(Where are my damn gloves? I knew I had a pair somewhere around here??)

Seems like yesterday that my phone had enough of the heat. The error message, "TOO HOT. OVERHEATING. WILL SHUT OFF. GET OFF THE BLACK TRACK IN THE AFTERNOON, YOU DUMBA$$" flashed right before the thing shut off until I got it back in the air conditioning.

Temperamental apple products.

I know, I know...we are not really cold like say, the midwest is cold. (Jen, Angela...you can just stop reading my whines now.) But, we are cold for the South.

(This carseat does NOT fit with that puffy jacket, Alice. And Ella, where is your hat? You HAVE to wear your hat. NON NEGOTIABLE, kid.)

It is really not that bad when you're used to it, and I used to be used to it. Born in Chicago, grew up in NJ. I've had my fair share of snow and ice. But, I don't expect it here. Don't want it. Don't remember how to dress for it. Don't even really have the right clothes to even do it if I wanted to.

I don't own a real winter coat. Fleece doesn't count. I had to make a very necessary scarf detour at the start of my long run yesterday...I thought my face was going to freeze off. (When running in the cold, "your lungs WILL NOT freeze" always goes through my head thanks to my winter track HS coach.) Biking outside is out of the question (and honestly it is until March, at the earliest for me). Hello, trainer.

I am too cold weather dumb to attempt riding when it is below um, 60?

My lungs would definitely freeze then. It's true. Promise.

Unrelated pics of my girls. I have some wintry ones that would make sense, but my computer is too full (damn apple, again) to load them. Instead, here's of my girls making fun of the way I smile. And the 17 month old started this. No kidding.


And here is one of many examples of the girls eating like dogs. Again, this trend can be attributed to Alice. (Although she wouldn't comply for the picture. Go figure.) Woof.

Christmas week...

....is done.

The tree is shedding needles all over the deck. The living room is vacuumed. The presents are (mostly) put away. The dining room that transformed into a wrapping station is now again a (rarely used) dining room. The blowup outdoor Santa is deflated and back in storage. Twinkle lights are no longer twinkling.

Woo freaking hoo.

Sorry Christmas-lovers, but I am glad to be done. This week, for me, to put it bluntly, sucked. The stomach flu that I was hoping was a 24 hour thing turned into a whole-gd-week thing. I think I finally turned the corner today. The 16 hours of sleep I got yesterday must have helped.

It was great to see my family a bunch though. I am sure they loved being around my germy, pukey, sleeping during Christmas eve dinner self. (Trying not to be a negative jerk here...trying.) The girls had a great time and are loving their gifts.

Still, I haven't worked out since last Sunday. (Unless Wii tennis counts for a workout?? My gift for Mike was really a wonderful gift to myself, too.) But seriously. Last Sunday. I am starting to grow crazier and crazier by the minute. Mike being on the treadmill right now is not making things any more sane in my head either. So jealous.

Just want to wait until tomorrow to see if I actually feel well enough. This virus is a really tricky bastard. One day I feel okay....the next terrible....the next, okay. So strange. And no, I am not pregnant.

Just sick. And mad about it. And glad that tomorrow is a new (non Christmas, non stomach flu) week.

Gotta run, E is faking a sore throat to score an ice pop. "Ouchie. Ouchie. My froat hurts. I think a popsicle make me feel better, mommy."

Maybe I will try one, too.

Some Christmas pics.

My sister and Alice. One of them is drooling chocolate from her mouth.


My favorite present. My mom had this made for Alice, the Hi-Ya Baby, as E calls her.


E resting on an Annabelle pillow.


My dad shaking some sense into the Hi-Ya Baby.


Christmas dinner. Alice was replaced by a bottle of wine. Wine doesn't yell at us. :)

Purging

Saturday started with this.


All morning long. I commenced the long overdue playroom purge. Getting rid of all the broken, mismatched, no longer played with toys. All to make room for the new ones from Santa that are not yet broken, mismatched and still interesting to play with. At least until the new year.

Alice toddled around, undoing my neat piles. Mike and Ella helped in their own way. If you consider drawing unflattering cartoons of me then cracking up at them, helping. I did not. Jerks. Okay, funny jerks. But honestly, my eyebrows don't look like that, right?? :)

Sunday ended with a different kind of purge. I will spare you pictures, promise. The kind that wakes you up in the middle of the night to sprint to the toilet. Again. And again. And again. Oh my. Stomach flu...again. Awful. Hellish. Painful. Mike amended for his caricatures of me by staying home from work to watch the girls. Just awesome. I was unable to care for myself much less two little girls. Ugh. Slept most of the day away.

Feeling a bit better today. Just tired from being up most of the night with E. Who, you guessed it, was purging herself. Poor kid. Fingers crossed that (1) this crud is gone by Christmas and (2) Mike and Alice remain purge-free.

2010

Yes, I, like everyone else in in triathlon-blog-land, have figured out my 2010 races and goals. I emailed Jen what they were last week.

And now that there out there...I kind of like it. I am what you call "goal oriented", to say the least.

I feel pretty much lost without one. So, it is nice to have a few for 2010.

My main one for the next few months is to get ready to kick some serious Gulf Coast A$$. I love this race. Love it. Flat, fast and hot. Yes, yes and YES!

I think the early season Half IM is perfect for me. I seem to be more motivated to train hard in the cold months. Go figure. I am not burnt out yet, no nagging injuries, etc. Works for me.

Plus, as cheesy as Panama City is....that beach is so darn beautiful. I will take the Gulf any day over the skanky leech infested lakes we swim the rest of our races here in North Georgia. I did a 5:22 in 2007, let's just say, I am ready to beat that time this year. :)

I have a few more. Under 20 in the 5k (wanted that one so badly this year, but 20:09 just doesn't cut it). Under 43 in the 10k. Under 1:40 at ING Half. Hopefully, a few minutes under 1:40.

I think all of these are totally doable...once the incredible soreness from the butterfly sets in the pool (what these look like to anyone watching? i shudder to think), and the actual doing of the strength training workouts this winter (last year, i took those as a rest day) fades away.

Totally post unrelated but seasonally appropriate pictures of the girls' preschool Holiday program from yesterday.

Things to address

First on my list....Christmas cards. Duh. But, my hand hurts. (I did a bunch last night.) And chasing down all those missing addresses is so much harder than sitting here on the couch, eating Twizzlers, and watching "100 Greatest Songs of the 90s" on VH-1, while blogging.

Second? Um, yeah, the Twizzlers. It is bad. Really bad. I really should address this. Once the family size, resealable (pointless considering there is not enough down time for them to actually go stale before they are eaten) bag is consumed, I am done. Now that the training is ramping up again, there is no way Twizzlers are going to fuel me. Offseason? Sure. Not so much for the winter/spring...

(Side note--I can't believe I found Nelson (the band) attractive in high school. Or that my cousin actually went to their concert. And I was jealous. Yes, still watching the 90s songs thing on VH-1.)

Third? I've got to really get over my "I am going to throw up. No, really...I will puke" feeling that I have when I look at Annabelle's surgery site. I have to look at it. I have to check it to make sure it is okay. The vet said so. I have to empty the (gasp!) drain from the incision. (WHAT?!?) That's my job. But.....but....MOMMY!!! I want mommy! What? That's me? You sure? Ah...okay....(Belly is doing okay. Thanks for all your concern. I am just glad to have her home, scars and all.)

(So get up get, get get down 911 is a joke in yo town -- still watching...)

Fourth? Training Peaks. Oh my....this new version is killing me. I was never good at entering my workouts in before they made it IMPOSSIBLE to understand. First it crashes safari. Every time I open it. Then when I finally get in through Firefox, it is like reading a foreign language. I must sit down and address this....take the time to figure this damn thing out....after this bag of Twizzlers is finished.

"Show Me Your Belly."

Last night, post bath/and pre highly choreographed "I not tired/I don't want to go to bed/I'm hungry/thirsty" dance begins... we were hanging out in our bedroom with the clean, silly sisters.

My favorite time of day.

Dad is home. Both are going nuts. Just how I like 'em.

Ella is racing around the room winning an imaginary race. Alice is walking on her head. Then showing us her nose. "Where is your nose, Allie?" Points to her nose, then my nose, then Mike's nose...

Okay. Let's try something new.

"Where's your belly?"

"Show me your belly."

She crawls her chubby little body over to this. Twice. And pounds her on the back.


Her belly. AnnaBELLE. Whom we mostly call "Belly".

Normally, that would rate as an "Awww. That's so cute" reaction from me.

But, last night, the night before Annabelle's second cancer surgery, it broke me.

All day long today, it was like I was watching a loop of "Marley and Me", "Old Yeller" and "My Dog Skip".

My 22nd birthday present is now a 107 lb.,11 year old Golden Retriever with 2 tumors, a "foreign body" in her stomach (No clue as to what she ate this time. My $$ is on a super ball.) and a rescheduled surgery for Monday.

I have always known that she wasn't going to live forever, but the reality of her getting older,slowing down and now getting sick is tough. Tougher than I thought. But, hopefully, not tougher than Allie's Belly.

Bleh.

I am in the minority on this one.

The definite minority judging from my unscientific sample size of houses in our neighborhood already decorated for Christmas.

THEY ALL ARE....well, except for the dark, sullen, naked (as in UNdecorated naked) loser of a house pouting at the end of the street. The house wishing for orange lights, hale bales and spiders. The house yearning for gaudy, scary, stupid, silly adornment.

I curse thee....ye tasteful Christmas decorating.

White lights all a flickering, Santa Clauses waving merrily, red, green, blah, blah, BLEH....puke.

I don't like Christmas.

Yes, I said it.

Too much damn work.

I used to love it. Back when all I had to do was show up. Eat some fudge (my dad used to get Fanny Mae fudge every year to fuel our tree decorating), toss some decorations on the tree, laugh with my family, get spoiled with presents. WHO doesn't love that kind of holiday?!? Side note -- E is pretty pumped for the big day. Duh.

Now I am a lazy-Grinch-Scrooge. And completely understand why my mom looked so tired in all of our Christmas pictures from when I was little. (4 kids. She and my dad would go to Toys R Us Christmas Eve and get everything. Were you guys nuts??)

The girls' upcoming school Christmas program, my fun cookie exchange party this weekend with girlfriends, and shopping for my family (very unGrinch like of me to enjoy "doing for others" isn't it?) all should chip away at my currently green exterior.

Oh, and Christmas cards. Love 'em. Love sending 'em, getting 'em. Opening 'em and putting them on the fridge.

My icy heart is melting already.