These little tiny nail art stickers are perfect for the young ladies in your life. Apply a coat of base coat, a coat or two of polish, then use a toothpick to apply a sticker or two (or 10) as desired to toes (or fingers if allowed). Then, this step is a must, apply a high quality top coat and let dry. Your little princess will love the results. The only issue we had with this was a strong desire to wear open toed shoes when this is not allowed at school. I suggested perhaps a sock could accidentally work itself off at naptime. I'm cool like that.
Other suggestions might be to stock up on them to put in a pedicure gift basket for a little girls birthday. You could also use them as an activity at a birthday party for girls; a pedicure party sounds fun to me, personally although I'm not sure which of my friends wants to touch my feet.
These stickers can be yours this weekend ONLY for .29 cents! They usually run a little over $2.00 at Walmart. Click here for more details.
This comes from the Krazy Coupon Lady, if you haven't visited her site yet you are so missing out. You can find out how to make the most excellent coupon binder, including free downloadable dividers, print out free coupons and get great deals each week, like this one.
I am at about that age when birth control pills begin to come with a black box warning. So, if I take them, reportedly I am at a higher risk of having a clotted leg that will have to be removed, or my head will explode in a ghastly way. Because of this, UberGeek and I have begun the earnest discussion of what to do in order to prevent the creation of any new Divas or Eddies.
If things had been just a little different, this all would have been solved when Diva and Eddie were born. Although I planned for a natural childbirth, I informed my OB that should things not work out, and he had to give me a c-section, he was to go ahead and tie the old tubes in a BIG FAT knot. He gave me a kind look, the sort he probably gives to all of his crazy, hormone addled, 8 months pregnant with twins patients, and told me, "Kristie, you are so young, let's just wait until the time comes, you might change your mind." That is when I grabbed him by the collar, pulled him so close to me that he could smell the frozen cream puffs on my breath, and told him that if he didn't do it I would take hold of the sterile tubing and do it myself. I'm making that part up, actually, but it did happen in my mind. In reality, I just smiled at him and said, "OK, but I am telling you, I do not ever want to be pregnant again." "There are other options" he replied calmly.
Now my children are five, and although I would like one more child, I am still very sure that I do not want to be pregnant again. I had enough complications to last for a lifetime the first pregnancy, and I am not willing to roll the dice again; it's not fair to Eddie or Diva. Recently, I approached UberGeek about making things permanent. Among his close counterparts, he is one of the "Last of the Mohicans" so to speak, the few unclipped. Whenever I mention the prospect of a vasectomy, UberGeek's eyes get wide, then I can tell that his mind starts churning, and this is what he comes up with, "I'm not getting one of those, they don't work."
UberGeek is of course referring to a friend who got a vasectomy from a prominent urologist. The man has super sperm; this is a couple who can stand too close to each other on a wet floor, then she gets pregnant. He had the vasectomy; they didn't quite get the final count back, and welcomed a final child to their beautiful family. He had to get the procedure performed a second time, reportedly this is the only similar case in the surgeon's career.
We, on the other hand, are not that couple, but it is a good excuse for UberGeek. After a year of attempting to convince him that a vasectomy would be in everyone's best interest, I told him I would get a tubal ligation. I have vague memories of people getting them years ago, days were spent recuperating, and so I let UberGeek know that it would be a long recovery. I had visions of a couple days at the beautiful new Mayo Clinic hospital with a flat screen TV, IV drugs, clean sheets, my own nurse and a lot of magazines. This would be followed by a couple days of quiet time at home while the kids were off at school.
Off I went to see my primary care physician, who I have known for ten years. I told him that UberGeek, who is also his patient, was being stubborn about the vasectomy and that I was thinking of a tubal. I wanted to know how much of a recovery at Mayo I would get. He laughed, then said, "Seriously Kristie? We replace portions of people's intestines as an outpatient procedure, you are so not getting any time in the hospital; it's an outpatient procedure."
Outpatient is a whole different ballgame. Outpatient means I will return home after something painful and have to slog around trying to keep the house tidy, wash the dishes, answer questions, fold laundry and watch tumbleweeds of animal hair go by. I won't want to let it all pile up for a couple days while I relax and recover. UberGeek will be wound tight trying to keep the kids busy; there won't be anyone to wait on me, so I will attempt to do too much too soon. I know how it will go. It's much better that he get the vasectomy because I am better equipped to wait on him and the kids all at once; women are better at multitasking, at least in this family.
There will be no tubal ligation vacation, time to pursue other options.
At my office, there are very few people with young children, hence, when 5:00 rolls around the place is still humming with activity. I typically try to come in by 8 and leave around 5 or come in at 730 and leave around 430 or so. My office mates tend to come in later and leave later. This doesn't generally work for me because my kids want to eat dinner by 6 and go to bed at 730. If I leave at exactly 5, get home at 530, then I can get dinner on the table by 6 and we can spend an hour together before they go to bed. If I stay later, I am taking time from the kids so I'd rather log in later from home after they are in bed if I need to. Still, I always feel as if there is a contest to see who can sit at their desk the latest in the evenings at the office. I am forever getting these reminder calls from UberGeek at 5:05 inquiring as to whether I have departed, then 5:10, then 5:15. He usually leaves around 4:30 from work as his office is a ghost town by 5. UberGeek is always on me to just come on home to be with them. Still, I feel weird heading off down the hallway when everyone else sits fixed in front of their terminals.
Sometimes God speaks to you, but in my case, apparently God has to repeat the message, more than once. When I was in my early twenties my stepmother, Lynn, died of cancer at the age of 44. At the time, both of her biological children, my brother and sister, were under the age of six. Before they were born, Lynn's work was everything to her, she was published in a number of academic journals, loved teaching, lecturing and traveling. I still remember the assorted lab frogs living on the back porch during the summer. Once my brother and sister were born, work was no longer everything to Lynnie, and she simply would not commit her time in a way she once had. She was still a very passionate person about nursing, about biology and about research, she simply could not give it twenty four hours a day as she had for nearly fifteen years.
In hindsight, it was a good thing Lynnie was so dedicated to her family, she certainly didn't know she would be given so little time with them. I remember not long after her terminal cancer diagnosis she said to me, "Kristie, this will be the thing that kills me, but I want the treatment to give me more time. I can't die yet, the kids are just too little." They were too little; when I think about it now, it crushes my heart to know what that did to her, having to leave them without a choice. The treatment did buy her more time, she was given a prognosis of a few months and she lived about a year.
I am 35 years old, nine years younger than my stepmother when she died. My children are the age that her oldest child was when she died. Although I often miss her, and I ache for my brother and sister, I also realize that I learned one of the most beautiful lessons in my life from her. Today, I was editing a website at work and I came across this quote from Stephen Covey, "Most people struggle with life balance simply because they haven't really paid the price to decide what is really important to them." I was around to watch that price be paid. As I read that quote, I started reflecting; I have been given a similar message in several different ways, from several sources lately, so perhaps my ear should be perking up.
A couple weekends ago, I was in church and the focus of the sermon was Psalm 39:4, "Show me, O Lord, my life's end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life." The pastor continued to talk about the power of that reading, that our days are numbered, that we only get one chance, one chance to be a child, one chance to be a teen, one chance to be a young adult, there is no going back. "You have made my days but a hands breadth; the span of my years is as nothing before you. Each man's life, is but a breath." I could feel emotion well up inside me as I squeezed UberGeek's hand as he sat next to me in the pew. OK God, I'm listening; be patient with me, sometimes I'm a slow learner.
If you are similar to our family at all there are days when it is pretty difficult to break out of the cereal in a box or cereal bar rut morning after morning. Luckily, someone told me about being employed at Quaker oatmeal, where you can get hot Quaker oats at any time of the day, courtesy of the staff cafeteria. The way they work this magic is to cook the oatmeal in giant rice cookers, brilliant!
Sure enough, throw in the oats and water as directed on the back of the Quaker box, turn on your rice cooker and wait for the beep some 20-30 minutes later and you will be the recipient of perfect oatmeal. I do recommend making more than one serving; I usually make enough to bring it to work for myself and a friend, or for Diva and I to sit down and enjoy.
Add ins make it even yummier, cut up an apple in pieces, sprinkle some cinnamon, a little brown sugar and let all of that cook with the oatmeal in the cooker. It will all be just right when the timer goes off. Slice a banana, sprinkle in some chopped walnuts, cinnamon and maple syrup and you have banana bread oatmeal ready in no time.
Make sure to invest in a rice cooker with a delay timer. This allows you to throw in your oatmeal and water the night before, select the number of hours you want the cooker to turn on in, and then go to bed. You will awake to a delicious, healthy breakfast.
What suggestions do you have for making fast, healthy meals for busy families?
Marathon weekend was a full one, Friday I headed to the Health and Fitness Expo to pick up my race packet with my friend and running buddy, 1.0. There were loads of great exhibitors, fun freebies and it was the perfect start to a great weekend. We decided that we would bring the kids back the next day for the pep rally and make a day of it.
Saturday we headed downtown and arrived just in time for the pep rally. The kids scooped up some free tambourines and pom poms and Diva was jumping up and down, cheering and shaking pom poms. Eddie asked us if we could maybe not be so loud; I think he was embarassed. 1.0 soon arrived with her husband, Wallace, and kids 2.0 and 3.0 plus the child of a friend and neighbor she was keeping an eye on for the day; we were quite a motley crew. With the extra kids though we scored lots of freebies and they were thrilled that Winn Dixie was giving away boxes of raisins, Smoothie King had free smoothies and Diva discovered her favorite cheese, Cabot, was giving away samples. After an hour or so the kids had had quite enough so we headed down to the Jacksonville Landing to let them run around. Finally, it was home to relax and get ready for the big race.
That evening I laid out all my clothes, shoes and got my water ready. Then I moved the coffee machine and rice cooker into UberGeek and I's bathroom so their beeps in the morning wouldn't wake up the kids. I measured out the oatmeal, the water and put in a little cinnamon and brown sugar then set the delay timer. Then I made the coffee and double checked that timer too. I barely drink any of my coffee before a run longer than 18 miles or so but the few sips I take are kind of a mental crutch. Once everything was packed, checked and double checked I drank a big glass of water and headed to bed. I know lots of people say they either don't sleep, or don't sleep well before a big race, but I always sleep like a baby. I figure I'm not a contender to place, so the worst thing that could happen to me is that they have to pick me up in one of those wagons and I make it to the end anyhow.
5 in the morning came quickly and I jumped out of bed to get dressed and pack up the oatmeal and coffee. I was ready in no time and got the text that Superfuzz was on the way to pick me up. Since she just had a baby a few weeks ago she decided to sit this marathon out. Thankfully she did volunteer to drive 1.0 and I to the race and drop us off, so off we went.
Once we got to the race location I really started to get excited. 1.0 wanted to know if we would find all the members of our group. I knew not to worry since we meet at the same spot each year, but I remember how worried I was the first year, 26 miles is a long way to run without the support of the dear friends you have trained with. No worries though, all the usual suspects started to arrive.
We made small talk at the start and marveled at how well organized everything was. Port o potties as far as the eye can see, this is a runners dream, let me tell you. There is nothing worse than needing to line up for a race and yet having to wait in an unending line because a race director has not ordered enough port o lets. There have been a few races I have had to use the woods or have almost been late too simply because there were not enough places to "go". Not at the Breast Cancer Marathon, there are even hand washing stations with real water! Free coffee for participants and spectators, fruit, snacks, everything you could ever want.
Then it was time for the national anthem and the official race song, Believe in the Beat which trust me, is still stuck in my head! We all started jumping up and down with excitement and then the gun went off; it was time to go. The crowd carried us the first few miles over the intracoastal bridge, once we got down to the Jacksonville Beach neighborhoods it was hard to hold back speed due to the overwhelming emotion of the spectators; it is indescribable. Then we headed out to run a stretch on the hard packed sand on the beach before moving toward Atlantic Beach and on to Selva Marina. Each neighborhood was lined with spectators.
The best part was having our own personal cheering section. UberGeek and Wallace stuffed all the collective kids into our minivan with UberGeek at the helm and went from place to place cheering us on. Just seeing them was amazing. Usually UberGeek is at home with the kids, or running the same races I am, so I've never had anyone at a race cheering for me; it was an amazing experience.
Around mile 15 I had a little trouble; it was pretty hot on marathon day. Not hot by sitting around, or tooling about town standards, for that it was perfect. The temperature was about 70 degrees, unfortunately, that is really hot for a marathon when you are in full sunlight and running on asphalt without stopping for hours on end. All of a sudden, I felt as if the blood had drained out of my face and I became nauseated. I asked my group to go on ahead of me since I was costing them time and I had my cell phone. I bent over under a tree and tossed a few cookies, then I sat down in the cool shade. I thought about calling UberGeek and telling him to come get me; I have never quit a race, ever. Then I thought of Janis, whose name was on my back; I was running the race in her honor, Janis was recently diagnosed with a relatively rare breast cancer. I thought about the many survivors we have in our training group and their enthusiasm for enjoying every mile of the race. I stood up. I decided that I might be hot, and I might not feel the greatest, this might not be a great race in terms of time on the clock. Still, it would be a great race, if not a particularly fast one for me. I was going to finish. From then on, it wasn't bad at all, I actually slowed down a bit and focused on enjoying the spectators, my run and the distance. I came upon my own personal cheering section one more time, and that gave me an extra dose of oomph. When I came up over the bridge on the last mile I saw one of my training group's leaders whose knee had been in pain, our other group leader had run back after finishing the race to meet up with her. I was so happy to see them after so many miles on my own; I started yelling their names. I managed a final tiny burst of speed to cross the finish line with my fists in the air, pumping, full of joy, happy to be alive, and finished.
My kiddos and UberGeek were there waiting for me, with 1.0 and her family. The lady handing out the marathon medals let Eddie Haskell put my medal over my head. You would have thought it was made of pure gold to see how happy that made him. Then I grabbed a couple waters to share with the kids and we hobbled towards the finish line celebration area.
