Jeffy's response to being called out on The Run Report via text message: "Good blog! I was a drunk in Eugene. Looks like I'm in training too...for a drunkathon." Nice.

So, Jeffy, I'm talking to YOU...


Running is essential. The end.

So let's move on to one of my best days as a Mommy ever...stick with me, it ends with my run this afternoon.

I took the boys to the Children's Museum. Oliver was content to stay in the dirt pile made of small rubber pellets the whole time. Owen wanted to explore everything else. That made it very difficult for me to keep tabs on both. Every time I took Oliver out of the pit and tried to distract him with another area, we had a crying fit.

The store with fake food wouldn't even fly with him. Speaking of, the fake food they have there is so realistic it's scary. Guess what EVERY SINGLE CHILD in the place did when they saw this super realistic food. That's right. In the mouth. And I wonder where we got the super Stomach Flu strain this summer. Ew.

Anyhoo, after getting Oliver out of the pit one last time, he finally had enough. We're talking ear-splitting screams. I made the executive decision to cut and run. Owen was not on board with my decision. HE starts screaming and does the whole limp body maneuver (who teaches kids this stuff?).

"I have no idea what she's talking about. I'm always smiling."

Visualize please: I'm holding the 30-pound 18-month old who's screaming and wriggling to get down. I'm dragging the crying 3-year old without bones along the floor to the exit. Now, if you happened to be in the Children's Museum, what would you have done? STARE. That's right. I glazed my eyes, looked straight ahead and powered through. I was scared to make eye contact with anyone, because I doubt I could have controlled myself from saying:

• Oh, you got the model that doesn't cry? Fuck you.
  
• I hope this happens to you one time. In church. During the homily.
• I am not breaking his arm. He prefers to travel this way.
• Get the fuck out of my way before I fucking kill you.

I managed to get to the car and found the special remedy for two screaming children: I cried. Immediately Owen stopped and started saying "Don't cry Mommy, it's OK. You don't need to cry." I'm sure Oliver was thinking "Oh shit. This afternoon is gonna suck."

So, after taking them to the zoo (and another crying jag), we came home and I decided to try a new recipe for the crockpot. The ingredients: chicken, brown sugar, vinegar, soy sauce, garlic, pepper and 7-up. Guess what I learned today? If the ingredients sound weird to you, and you don't think some of them go together, the chicken won't miraculously taste like something completely different. It will actually taste like chicken that's been soaking in brown sugar, vinegar and soy sauce. We got pizza.

So, THE RUN! Finally. I was so miserable when Michael got home, I think he would have tried to put my sports bra, running shoes and socks and all my other gear on me himself. Then he would have kicked me in the ass.

I started out faster than usual and was surprised to find that I wasn't dying. I kept the pace up (we're not talking really fast here, people. Maybe a 9:30) until I got to the track and that's when I encountered the 2500 knot winds right in the kisser. God, I hate that. It slowed my overall time, but I think I've found a great formula. Do a small run after a long run, then a day off, then a tempo run. I felt awesome. I actually felt like my Under Armours were eating the pavement. I had a weird crocodile image there. (these are the best shoes ever...so much that my nice shoe connection lady is getting me another pair for 60 bucks and tells me the UA people were thrilled I love them so much. They come out January.)

So, the running is good. The kids are kids and I still can't cook. GOOD TIMES(TM) for sure.