No. 250

This is the 250th post on the blog. Taco Bell should be paying me for advertising at this point.  (Truth be told, this wasn't actually the 250th I've published, as there are many gems waiting for you in draft form.  Most of these will never see the light of day because my children will probably grow up and never talk to me again if I tell all their secrets.)

Is it narcissistic of me to think any of you want to see what value menu item I'm craving for the 250th time?

Last week, I finished baking 600 cupcakes that cure cancer. I am convinced that my skin absorbed massive amounts of icing and I now am sweating out buttery goodness each time I train. I must do my training early in the morning before the sun comes up lest I want to sizzle.

I am pleased to announce that I have surpassed my Ultimate Hike goal, thanks to all those donors who love babies and hate cancer. I want to run to Taco Bell to celebrate, but I only burned off one avocado this morning. I'd pretty much have to hike to the nearest Taco Bell to justify the celebratory nachos.

There is a Taco Bell on the way to carpool, though.

Daniel is loving kindergarten, although I'm pulling the proverbial teeth trying to wring out any info from him.

Me: Daniel, what did you do at school today?

Dan: I ate lunch.

Me: What else did you do?

Dan: I ate a snack.

Me: Did you do anything else?

Dan: I went potty.

I think I'm officially qualified to home school.

Among his new friends is a Bryson, and I say "a" Bryson because Daniel swears there are three of them in his class: Bryson K., Bryson L., and Bryson Lee.

He also swears Bryson L. and Bryson Lee are not the same person.

Daniel was unfortunately born without an inside voice. It may stem from the fact that ever since he was teeny-tiny, he has always had a deep voice. As in, ineligible for the boy choir-deep. So maybe he just had to speak louder for any of us to hear him.

Or maybe he's just a five-year-old boy with no volume control.

Daniel, does your teacher ever talk about using inside voices? Yes. She said I need to use mine. Daniel, do you know what that means? I don't know. I think it means I need to be quieter. Yes, that's right. But I have to talk loud because Natalie is always talking.

Justifiable outside voice indeed.

Natalie has always been the [loud] ringleader. "Everyone, get in the living room! We're going to watch The Ten Condiments. NOW!" Or, you may know it by its other theatrical name, The Moses Show. Daniel couldn't remember if we had found Eve in a basket floating in a river, but he was fairly sure that he had seen her part the swimming pool once when she cannon-balled into it.

(The Moses Show takes approximately four nights to watch with the six- and under crowd. I feel this must be some sort of record.)

On Saturday, in the middle of torrential downpours, I decided it would be a fun idea to pack up the kids and head to Wet 'n Wild ninety minutes away. We didn't even arrive until 3:00, but it worked out to be the perfect amount of time for the family as the park closed just four hours later. Meaning we only spent $9 (locker rental) the whole time we were there. Not enough time to beg for snacks and souvenirs, but just enough time to work up an appetite for Taco Bell on the way out of town.

When we got back, I found an awesome package at my door addressed to yours truly, Mom of the Year. What was in it, you ask? Was there a hydration belt? Why yes, there was. More importantly, was there ramen noodles covered in dark chocolate?

Of course there was. I just told you it was an awesome package, didn't I?

And yes, there was a button that proclaims legalize frostitution. I like to wear it as I glisten out buttercream.

Want to know what makes me glisten heavily? When I see Duke Univ OIT on the caller ID and I'm not expecting their call. Especially when we're a few days out from Eve's scans and I've already spoken to everyone that needs to be spoken to. As in, I've gotten the a-okay from the oncologist about the preliminary report and I've already informed the billing department they can put it on my tab.

It's pretty amazing how quickly worst-case scenarios can play out in your head with each ring of the telephone. And how slowly it takes for the dread to melt away when you realize it's only Duke calling to ask if Daniel can participate in a study on cognitive development.

You can hang up on them with a smile on your face without realizing how rude you've just been.

And when you do realize how rude you've just been, you get a message from a friend about a fantasy soon-to-be realized in the not-too-distant future on your next trip to your hometown and start smiling again:

What we should do is just go to my house and make Jumbo Cadillacs [unworldly margaritas], get chips and salsa from Mexico [Restaurant], tacos from Taco Bell and pizza from Ledo's and have a picnic!

Be still, my heart! How many miles do I need to go before Cardio Trainer gives me the green light to partake in said picnic?

Supposedly we're burning around 5500 calories the day of the big hike. I might have to pencil this picnic in the day after before my body knows what hit it.

I've always held close the belief that worrying burns the calories you meant to burn by exercising, but never got around to. Natalie burned enough for the both of us as she awaited the dentist yesterday.

Shark teeth. That's what she has and that's why she's pictured above in the chair trying not to gnaw on her fingernails. The discovery of two adult teeth popping through her "guts" behind two of her baby teeth, which are not at all interested in becoming loose, prompted her insistence that I schedule her an emergency appointment at the dentist. Even though Dr. Google left me little reason to be worried.

Do it. I dare you. Google "shark teeth."

We left with instructions to wiggle those baby teeth for the next three months and above all, not to worry. So I guess no extra calories earned from this point on by way of dread for Nat. She'll have to join me on the trail if she wants a reason to scarf down an extra taco.

Unless her reason is solely that she's six and still has a metabolism.