kiwords

So I’ve been in training, you should know. Yes, I (along with my very clever friend, Amy) have been ACTIVELY training to…uh…walk a half marathon.

When I told my brother what I was doing, his response can best be described as under whelmed.

“Isn’t that sort of like doubling up on reduced expectations, to WALK a HALF marathon?” he asked. “What’s next, you watch a quarter of a marathon?”

Whatever, Josh.

However, I DO understand that this is not a Nike commercial sort of undertaking. It’s not a huge deal. Nonetheless.

I realized with a start this morning that I had to send off my registration for the race TODAY. I found the registration form, still in the printer, under pages and pages of some coloring page/award certificate some child had caused the printer to spit out. Now, my printer likes to swig a hefty shot of ink (which seems, for its price, to be a derivative of gold) before it prints a single letter, so you can imagine how pricy this sort of print-a-thon can be. I interviewed all the boys and eventually narrowed it down to Raphael. I showed him the pages and informed him that he would NOT be printing out these things any more, lest he lose his computer privileges. He looked at me with narrowed eyes, then declared,

“Ok, Missus.”

This caused another lecture, the gist this one being Don’t call me that, I don’t know why, I just don’t like it.

That settled, I took my entry form in search of a pen. After throwing away two that no longer work and one that had been dismantled by Max and never put back together quite right, I gave up and used a pencil. Think of it as rugged, Boulder Backroads people. And as it turned out, I needed a water resistant writing implement, because just then Tre came up to me and grinned, showing me the gross fake teeth he had in his mouth. I reacted with the required disgust and he laughed and pulled them out. This released a glob of spit that hit my entry form. Yeah. Insert genuine disgust.

I mopped off the paper and managed to finish filling it out. It was time to go to the grocery store – excuse me, aside here. You know I love my kids, right? I mean, I’m all crunchy and homeschooly. I’m the kind of person who can say with irritating sincerity, “Oh, I couldn’t IMAGINE sending my kids to school all day. We ENJOY our days so much!” And it’s true. I like them lots and lots.

But.

When it’s time to go grocery shopping, I have vivid duct-tape-and-closet fantasies. Can I GET an amen, fellow mothers?

Anyhow.

Since it was time to leave, I ordered the boys in the van, and went to grab an envelope from the cupboard. All my envelopes had been, inexplicably, licked and sealed and stuffed back in their box.

Ok, then.

I broke up a battle to the death between Raphael and Max over who got to take the green light saber to the store (“Light sabers aren’t allowed in King Soopers, get in the van before I eat you both. Yes, you can take a juice box.”), ran downstairs to steal an envelope from my parents, and climbed in the van.

I finished addressing the envelope in the van, and fished a stamp out of the ashtray. It was ready to go, and I looked at it with no small measure of pride.

It may not be a BIG thing, walking a half marathon, but when you take into account the obstacle course I’m have to get through just to get there, it’s not a SMALL thing either.