We left on Friday, April 20. After spending a good amount of time pricing flights and looking at travel itineraries, we decided our best option was to drive to Newark, NJ and fly directly from there to Hamburg. In the end, it saved us time and money, but most importantly, it saved us a layover at a European airport at what would feel like 2 in the morning to our kids. Priceless.

So after a blessedly uneventful trip (can you really describe checking 3 bags & 3 car seats and carrying on 3 children and 2 bags as uneventful!?!), we arrived safely at Uromi’s house on Saturday morning. Our time in Glueckstadt was great- (LOTS of) good food, time with family, and a chance to stock up on Germany books and CDs. We enjoyed the visit with Uromi and know that it means so much to her to see the kids. . . . unfortunately, the time always goes by so quickly!

We left Glueckstadt on Wednesday, April 25, and flew from Hamburg to Muenchen (known as Munich to the Americans). In case you aren’t familiar with German geography, Hamburg and Glueckstadt are in northern Germany, along the Elbe river. It is flat farm country, with plenty of windmills and open spaces. I always tell Americans to think of their stereotypes of Holland, as most of those apply to northern Germany, too. Muenchen, by contrast, is in southeast Germany and is the capital of the German state of Bayern (Bavaria to Americans). Many Americans have visited this city and are familiar with its legendary Oktoberfest, Bierhalls, and scenic setting just north of the Alps.

Though I, as a northern German, hold certain regional loyalties, I must admit that the scenery in Bayern is stunning. From the airport, we drove to the small town of Engelsberg, where Caleb’s cousin Sean and his family live. The drive offered breathtaking vistas, and Engelsberg is a picturesque Bavarian town. It was great to see where they live and to catch up with them a bit. It happened to be one of their kids’ birthdays, so we got treated to spaghetti and cupcakes. (Unfortunately, I didn’t take any pictures there!)

We spent Wednesday night back in Muenchen and then spent Thursday morning exploring downtown. Caleb had arranged a meeting with the Munich office of his company, so he enjoyed meeting people in that office and learning more about the real estate industry in Germany. The kids and I, in the meantime, played in the Englischer Garten, the “Central Park” of Muenchen.

We got out of town before rush hour and made the hour-and-a-half drive to Bad Wiessee, which is a resort town in the Alps on the scenic lake Tegernsee. It is stunningly beautiful, and we got lucky with fantastic weather. The reason for our stay here (and the primary reason for our entire trip!) was the wedding of Mickey & Steffi. Mickey is Caleb’s very best friend. I like to think he saw how lucky Caleb got and decided to find his own German wife. (Ha!)

Caleb was a groomsman and Simona was a flowergirl. . . yes. . . her SIXTH flowergirl appearance and second in Germany! This meant that Caleb was busy, so the kids and I had quality time to explore some of the local playgrounds and shorelines ourselves.

Fortunately, Caleb got a chance to check out the zipline and now believes me when I tell him that German playgrounds make American playgrounds look boring.

The wedding itself was beautiful. The kids behaved during the ceremony, Simona and the other girls did a great job with the flowers, and the bride and groom were stunning. More importantly, they were clearly so excited to begin their lives together, and we were honored to be witnesses.

Congratulations, Mickey & Steffi, and thanks for letting us be a part of your big day!

February and March brought grandparents eager to visit their grandchildren (and I suppose to see us, too. . .)

My parents came up over the weekend of Caleb’s birthday, which allowed Caleb and me to go for a run and out for brunch together sans children. They had fun taking the kids to the nearby Maryland Science Center.

Grandma & Grandpa visited in mid-March, and we spent some time showing them around Baltimore. In addition to spending relaxed time at home, we also spent an afternoon visiting Fort McHenry, where the Star Spangled Banner was written during the War of 1812.

The theme of our April was coming and going! At the end of March, the kids and I flew to Georgia for Simona’s and my spring break.

Aside from spending time with Oma and Opa, one of the purposes of the trip was to attend my sister Linda’s baby shower. My mom, my sisters Karen and Janice, and I drove up to Greenville, South Carolina for one day of celebrating with the Mama-to-be.

Grandma Lo made the drive to the shower from North Carolina (with Grandpa Bob), and they returned to Georgia with the rest of us for some time with their great grandkids.

Highlights of the week in Georgia included Maria falling in love with her Great Grandpa Bob, riding the golf cart around and kayaking on Lake Peachtree, and generally getting spoiled by Oma and Opa.

Caleb and I also got an extra-special early anniversary gift, courtesy of my parents. I flew back from Georgia two days before the kids came back. Not only was this my very first child-free flight since 2006 (!!!), but it meant that we had a chance to get away child-free for our anniversary. We spent a day hiking in nearby Patapsco Valley State Park and then spent a beautiful evening eating out and strolling around the streets of Annapolis. Dad valiantly flew back from Georgia by himself with all three kids, which we very much appreciated.

The other big news from early April is that little Missy Maria finally started walking! Andreas started walking on April 24, 2010, exactly two days before turning 16 months. I became convinced that Maria would be my latest walker, since she did not seem any closer to walking in early April than she had in January, February, or March. However, she was not to be outdone by her big brother and finally started walking on Friday, April 6—four days before turning 16 months, and, much to our chagrin, during her days in Georgia without Mama and Papa! Though we were disappointed to miss the first day of her walking, we certainly have witnessed plenty of it since then.

Easter Sunday was a nice day around here, too. I got up early to finish making an egg casserole for the church breakfast, so Maria and I watched the sunrise over the high school and the Domino Sugar plant behind our house and on the Baltimore harbor. We drove down to church in DC and enjoyed the celebration of the Resurrection with our church family there and then headed home for a mini indoor Easter egg hunt. We hid both real eggs that we had dyed ourselves and plastic eggs from Grandma. Maria was the first to find a plastic egg and quickly discovered that there were some delicious jelly beans inside. Thanks, Grandma! The rest of the day here was mellow.

We enjoyed mild weather and lots of sunshine during mid-April. Details on our trip to Germany to come in Part II!

Well, I am not that mom, and my kids are not those kids. Which means that I don’t want to try to write that blog. Though I attempt to include some of the messiness of day-to-day life here, I confess that I have been guilty of being selective about what makes it onto this blog. Sometimes, it is harmless or even for the reader’s benefit. (Do you really want details about poopy diapers, potty mishaps, or other gross parts of parenting?) Other times, though, it is because I want to project a more perfect image of my life than actually exists. And that can be harmful- not only to those who read and then are left feeling inadequate, but also to me. Selective censoring gives me a pass on grappling with how hard parenting is and how often I come up FAR short of even mediocrity.

This was so evident to me on a disastrous afternoon a few weeks ago. Many afternoons around here are relatively unstructured– maybe some playground time, homework, puzzles, books, but all without a particular agenda. On that fateful afternoon, though, I had a plan and hoped it would result in fun but educational time. I carefully documented the activities, not only because I wanted to preserve some memories, but, quite honestly, because I wanted evidence for this very blog of what a good mom I could be.

BACKFIRE. That afternoon was one of the worst parenting jobs I have ever done. My desire to do too much coupled with my hope for perfect results lead to countless blow ups and fights with the kids. I completely lost my temper and screamed at the kids and was just a nasty person. I am sure they will remember not what I set out to teach them but what a poor example of love and patience I was. And yet. . . I still could have written my blog post like this:

Last week, we spent unsseasonably warm afternoon soaking in all spring has to offer. First, we read a bit about insects, and followed it up with a craft. We made our own bumble bees!

Then, we headed outside to plant some flowers in our miniature garden. We found some earthworms, dug in the dirt, and enjoyed the sunshine. Everyone got in on the action!

Don’t you love springtime, when new, fresh life grows?

So as you see, looks can be deceiving, and pictures, though they may be worth a thousand words, don’t always tell the whole story.

If you’re a bad mom, you’re not alone. I’m no Martha Stewart or Betty Crocker. No Supernanny (nor Supernancy!) lives here. My days are full of wasted time, unhealthy foods, shoddily prepared meals, and a bad temper. The floors are dirtier than I ever thought they’d be. It’s real, and sometimes it’s ugly. But we’re doing the best we can, as well as we can. It’s why I miss living near family and in close community with close friends. It’s why I need grace: from my kids, my husband, the mommy bloggers, you, and God. It’s why I need Easter and why I am thankful for constant forgiveness and clean slates. It’s all I can ask for (but if you want to come clean my floors or cook me dinner, I won’t object!).

Happy Spring!

Last Sunday, in honor of my friend Janel’s birthday, I drove down to DC and ran the St. Patrick’s Day 8K with her. It was a beautiful morning, and spring had just sprung in the Nation’s Capital. The beauty of the blooming daffodils and magnolias was wonderful, but the true beauty of the morning was that Janel and I were able to complete sentences and thoughts without being interrupted. We ran a 51:01 8K, which translates to a 10:16/mile pace. I enjoyed running in a more “local” race without all of the hoopla and hassle of a larger event. It’s nice not to deal with a separate “packet pickup” beforehand and large crowds on raceday! After our run, we headed over to a Caribou Coffee and indulged in even more grown up conversation. Not a bottom to wipe, dispute to mediate, or spill to wipe up during the entire morning. Too bad her birthday only comes once a year!

Six days later, on St. Patrick’s Day itself, I ran in the inaugural Rock-n-Roll DC Half Marathon. This was my first “Rock-n-Roll” race, which, in case you’re not familiar, is a “chain” of long-distance races throughout the US (and even other countries, these days). The common denominator in these races is that they feature a wide variety of live bands all along the race course.

I have to admit, I have been a bit ambivalent about the Rock-n-Roll events. In a world increasingly dominated by chain restaurants and chain retail stores, it somehow seems inevitable but still wrong to create “chain” road races. Like any franchised entity, there are some pluses. It’s great that local artists ranging from rappers to adolescent steel pan drummers got some broad exposure. And bringing in a Grammy-winning band (Switchfoot) to put on a post-race concert surely attracts more positive attention to the sport. (I fear most non-runners usually view our races as a headache of road closures and parking restrictions.) At the same time, I *like* the traditions that can arise when some organization based in San Diego is not orchestrating every detail of an event that will take place 3,000 miles away. There was something neat about knowing that Trombone Man would always be there to greet me as I ran across the bridge over the Connector in Atlanta during the Atlanta Half Marathon. I liked looking for Max Cleland, a (former) US Senator from Georgia, who was always sitting in his wheelchair on Cardiac Hill outside the Shepherd Spine Institute, high-fiving runners with his only remaining limb, during the Peachtree Roadrace.

But, since I generally tend to believe you shouldn’t knock it ’til you try it, I signed up. Overall, I’d say it was the mixed bag I was expecting. The kids and I headed to DC on Friday afternoon so that we could visit a family we’ve known since Simona’s preschool days in DC. After a fun playdate , we met up with Caleb, who then dropped me off at the Expo. I zipped through and quickly picked up my number and t-shirt, grabbed the obligatory free samples, and bought a desperately needed, steeply discounted pair of new running shoes (Pumas- I’ve never tried them before, so we’ll see how I like them!). Afterwards, I walked 4 blocks to my friends’ house, where I slept that night to avoid a long commute in the morning (Caleb’s brilliant idea). The added bonus was another evening of child-free conversation with friends. . . too much of this, and I may start racing much more often! The next morning, I rolled out of bed at 7:10 and made it to the starting line in plenty of time for the 8 AM start. Ahh, the luxury of not needing to check a bag, use a port-a-potty, or take a crowded form of public transportation to the start!

I found the staging area to be a bit confusing, with minimal signage and no verbal instructions directing runners to their starting corrals. I was also surprised to find parked cars along the sides of the race route, beginning less than a mile into the run. Still, the atmosphere was good, the bands provided a nice pick-me-up, and the crowds were in a festive mood, courtesy of St. Patty’s Day and March Madness.

Runners coming up the Harvard St. hill.

Mama in action

The weather was a bit on the warm, sticky side for my preference (for a long race), but there were ample water/gatorade stops. The course had some hills, but nothing too terrible. I was able to spot my cheering section (well, only after Caleb yelled “NANCY” about 5 times) and enjoyed getting mid-race kisses from my youngest fans (and this despite not being Irish).

A special fan.

Another action shot.

So, overall, I was pleased by my run and enjoyed the race, but I was not blown away by the Rock-n-Roll experience. I’d probably run one again, but I certainly wouldn’t seek out another of their races solely because of the Rock-n-Roll label.

Hope I didn’t bore you too much! More on recent visitors and upcoming travels another time.

Simona continues to impress with her maturity far beyond her years. She typically is so helpful, kind, and very eager to please that I occasionally find myself expecting her to act like an eight or nine year old. She IS only five (or five and a half, she’ll remind you), but it’s easy to mistake her for an older child.

She and Andreas alternate between playing really well together and fighting like mortal enemies.

School has been (mostly) fun for Simona. She is a beginning reader, with her German reading skills ahead of her English reading (because German is a much more phonetic language). It’s fun to see her sense of achievement when she sounds out a particularly long or difficult word, but I have to admit that she has inherited her mother’s tendency to become quickly frustrated and discouraged. (Thankfully, that trait seems to be muted more and more as it’s passed through the generations.) Simona also enjoys math, including basic addition and subtraction.

She is also much more creative than her mother! She recently brought home a worksheet with a drawing and two sentences that read: “Graundhog lik’s to kri wen he is happy.” and “Graundhog lik’s to rid on a raditte.” (She sometimes still mixes up lowercase b’s and d’s, so the last word is supposed to be ‘rabbit.’) When I asked her about these, she told me that her teacher asked them to write two silly sentences about groundhogs. Pretty good ones, I thought! She also impressed me with her abstract thinking when she brought home a worksheet about Abraham Lincoln. I asked if she knew who he is, and she said, “Yes, he was the same as Martin Luther King, Jr., except that he was also a president.” Though there are probably a lot of holes to fill in there, I thought it was a pretty neat connection to make all on her own.

Simona is still taking after-school ballet class. She took ballet and tap at her preschool in Atlanta and continued with it here, but her teacher last semester was awful. Thankfully, the school has a new teacher who seems wonderful. Simona loves everything about being a ballerina. She’s also participating in a five-week art class and still loves drawing and coloring. Other favorites are bike riding, hide-n-seek, Memory or Uno, playing school/teacher, and climbing trees (which is harder to do when you grow up in a city!).

A final fun Simona update: one of her good friends here in Baltimore is . . . Simona! We were surprised to learn that there is another Kindergartener (at the other local elementary school) who shares her name. They even look alike- brown eyes, dark blonde hair, tall. . . We have become friends with Simona’s family, so “the Simonas” want us to call them by their middle names when they are together.

She is growing up too quickly. I can’t believe we’re almost 1/3 of the way through her childhood!
_______________________________________________________
Other updates: I wrote my last post too early! While Caleb was still out of town, we had a friendly visitor. . . a bird! It was a starling, so not exactly a tiny one, either. Getting him out of here involved me sequestering the kids in one of the bedrooms and running around in the darkened downstairs with a vest over my head, trying to chase it toward the opened doors. It was quite the scene, but fortunately all parties emerged unharmed.

Caleb celebrated another birthday this week! My parents were in town, so we went on a date to “Cafe Hon,” a Baltimore institution of sorts. Of course, ice cream and cupcakes with trick candles were a big hit here at home with the kids.

Maria is getting a little closer to walking! She is more interested in practicing now, and she even (sort of accidentally) took 2 steps alone today!

And, last but not least, we said goodbye to our family pet Mija in January. We adopted Mija in June of 2005 (along with Cowboy, who died in 2007), and she was a very sweet cat. We miss her loud purr, her radar for a lap to curl up on or hand to nudge to be pet, and her bizarre habit of rhythmically tapping plastic bags with her paw. She also was a pretty good hunter, so she would have been helpful during our recent bird episode. . . Rest in peace, Mijita.

1. Your husband (or wife) is out of town for a week, leaving you alone with three young children. You try to cut down on the challenge of mealtime/bedtime by:
a) cooking meals in advance of his (her) trip, so that they’re ready to pull out of the freezer while he’s gone.
b) skipping baths while he (she) is gone.
c) using buy-one-get-one-free coupons from a fast food restaurant to avoid having to cook and then do dishes after dinner.
d) starting the dinner/bedtime routine about 45 minutes earlier and finishing up about an hour later than you would if two parents were doing the job.

2. One night, your son refuses to stay in his bed or otherwise obey. You:
a) thank your lucky stars that his door locks from the outside, and lock him in his room.
b) gradually move from patient admonishments to scolding to outright bribing / threatening / intimidating him until he finally wears out and falls asleep.
c) read him story after story until you two finally fall asleep together on his bed.
d) scold and try to coerce, but when that is futile, give up and let him stay up playing until 11:30 PM. Pay for it dearly with a cranky child the next day.

3. You spend an afternoon at the school playground. While you are there, which of the following happens?
a) Your older daughter falls about 6 feet to the ground off of a piece of playground equipment, causing a gaggle of parents to rush to her aid before you even notice that it was YOUR kid who fell.
b) Your son attempts an escape through a gate that was left open. You nearly give your younger daughter shaken-baby-syndrome from running after him with her in your arms.
c) Your son darts into the middle of an intense basketball game being played by some teenagers and nearly gets bowled over in the process.
d) You fail to pack a snack, leading your older daughter to tell her friends that you are a bad mom.

4. Your older daughter is supposed to attend her good friend’s birthday party, which she has talked about for almost a month. The gift is wrapped and ready, and you tell the kids it’s time to start getting coats on so that you can walk her over to the party (which is 1 block away). In that moment, your son projectile vomits all over you, the rug, himself, and a tray with about 50 colored pencils in it. You:
a) tell your daughter sorry, but you’ll either miss or be very late to the party!
b) call a neighbor to come over and help you, or at least walk your daughter to the party.
c) peel off your nasty clothing, hop in the shower for a very quick rinse off, leave your son sitting in his vomit for 2 minutes while you run your daughter to the party, and then sprint back home to deal with the mess and crying child.
d) take off the nasty clothes, grab your son, shower together as quickly as possible, and then throw on clothes to get your daughter to the party relatively on-time.

5. The vomiting continues through the evening. You:
a) clean up your son and the vomit to the best of your ability, then give up on the rest of the household chores and watch a random re-run, leaving the pencil chore and other housework for tomorrow.
b) call a neighbor to pick your daughter up from the party and give you a hand with the clean up and care around the house.
c) call your husband (or wife) in tears and ask them to change their plane ticket to come home ASAP.
d) bathe your son after each episode, zealously clean up every vomit puddle, finish your other regular evening chores, run 2 loads of laundry, and individually sanitize each of the bajillion colored pencils. Anything less would be very unhygienic.

6. A good friend who lives 45 minutes away offers to adjust her work schedule so that she can come over to help you and give you adult conversation one night while your spouse is gone. Another group of a few local moms whom you are just getting to know in your neighborhood make you a similar offer for the same evening. You:
a) accept both offers and figure they can all get to know each other that way.
b) accept the offer from the friend who lives further away. You wanted the chance to catch up anyway, and even though she’s not a mom, she’s great with your kids.
c) accept the offer from the moms. They’ll be less inconvenienced, and you’ll have multiple experienced hands to help with getting kids to bed.
d) decline both offers. Though it’d be nice to have help, you don’t want to burden your single friend and you’d feel too pressured to have your house and kids presentable if new friends were coming over.
_________
Before I post my answers, I will insert that the Simona “February Kid Update” is still forthcoming.
_________

FOR THE RECORD:
Well, how’d you do? I’d be curious to know your responses! My choices were definitely not always perfect, but here’s how I stacked up:
1) Actually, E– all of the above! Whatever it takes to make it through the week!
2) D
3) Again, E- all of the above! I’m sure the other moms there thought I was a mess!
4) C. Leaving Andreas home alone in his own vomit was definitely not a recommended move, but it really was only for about 2 minutes (and he didn’t even notice that we had left the house!).
5) A. Although, after wasting time on the rerun and now on this blog post, I am feeling guilty and may do a tad more housework before I head to bed!
6) B, except that that friend ended up having to cancel last minute. So I ended up with no help. So it goes!

In case you can’t tell, I’m not cut out for single parenting and am feeling in over my head this week. Can’t wait for Caleb to come home!

This is significant because this is how old my sister was on the day I was born. I have thought about this on the 14m3d “birthday” of each of my kids. “If I were mom, I’d be having another baby today!” I know people have kids even closer in age than that, but WOW. I still think of Maria as a baby!

Though Maria is still a baby in many ways, she’s also growing up way too fast! She seems to be SLOWLY making progress toward walking unassisted. She sometimes stands without holding on, and she has started trying to stand up from a seated position without holding onto anything. Since Andreas didn’t walk until 16 months, we’re not concerned and are content to let her crawl. And she is an awesome crawler– she has two different styles, and she can really move quickly when she wants to! She can easily climb up and down stairs (though we still follow behind her just to be sure!) and is learning to climb down from a couch or a bed. Driving is also no problem.

Her vocabulary is increasing quickly, too. She now makes a variety of animal sounds and is obsessed with the word “heiss” (hot). Heissssss seems to be equated with a lot of different items or situations, but she does sometimes correctly apply it to the fireplace or a candle. “Uh-oh” is another new favorite. She understands much more than she speaks, so I am sure that the word explosion will come soon.

Maria is a getting better and better and eating and sleeping, too. I don’t know if it’s because we have fewer hands free to spoon-feed her or if she just has better motor skills, but she basically feeds herself both finger foods and spoon-fed foods like yogurt. She naps once a day for about 2 hours and increasingly sleeps for about 11.5 uninterrupted hours at night (7:30 PM to 7:00 AM).

Maria loves her siblings and loves to laugh and play with them. She is starting to fend for herself a bit, protesting when something she wants is withheld or taken away. She wants to be in on the action and is no longer shy about making her wishes known. (I am getting good at distinguishing between the “Andreas is hurting me” and the “Andreas/Simona just took something from me” cries.) At the same time, she remains a very pensive, mellow little girl.

One is such a great age: much more independent than a newborn, but not quite as obstinate as the toddling twos. It’s so fun to see them make new discoveries and connections every day. The major challenge (aside from trying to assure safety) at this age is what we call the “ransacking” phase. One-year-olds LOVE to explore by removing, tearing, dumping, pouring, throwing, rolling, banging. . . and on and on and on. If you want to stage a robbery, consult with a one-year-old. (Better yet, let them just tear through your house. . . they’ll take care of anything within their reach!) Fortunately, Maria is pretty benign compared to her brother. Not one roll of toilet paper has landed in the toilet, no entire bookshelf has been emptied, and not a single piece of dishware has ended up in the trash. I’m sure some of that will come, but for now we’re relieved she’s the calm soul that she is.

ANDREAS is 110% boy. The kid is obsessed with dinosaurs, planes, trains, boats, and cars. He adores pushing/flying/driving his little toys around the house.

He frequently latches onto one or another of them in an obsessive manner, meaning that a particular item travels EVERYWHERE with him for a day (or two or three). Interest in that specific object will then wane as a new one replaces it, but you have to be on your toes. A previous “must-have” toy can unexpectedly return to “cannot-live-without-it” status without any notice, and if it is not easily accessible (read: you don’t know where he last put it), panic will ensue. And so, Caleb has received many a mid-day phone call from Nancy asking, “Do you happen to know where ‘Gruenes Flugzeug’ (green airplane) is right now?” or “My life will be markedly improved if you could tell me where the VW is. . . please?!?”

He has recently also begun showing a bit of an interest in arts and crafts. His attention span is growing increasingly longer, so if we put some children’s stories or music on the radio and give him a dinosaur coloring book, we can occasionally buy ourselves a few minutes of (relative) calm. (Warning: he may still knock over an empty chair, color on his sister or Lord-knows-what else, or come up with some other mischief, so this is not a free pass to leave him unsupervised!) He had a lot of fun with fingerpaint recently.

Andreas is going through some typical 3-year-old “mean” stuff: hitting, pinching, teasing, jumping on, and otherwise aggravating his big and little sisters. He comes up with some hilarious but not appropriate insults, so Simona often comes running up to us to report, “Andreas hat mich eben stinkig doof Kuh genannt!” (Andreas just called me stinky dumb cow!). Not sure where he gets these, but I sometimes have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. We are trying to work on this behavior.

Physically, he continues to be relatively small. He had his 3-year well-child visit in January and weighed in around 31 pounds, which put him in the 50th percentile for weight. I don’t remember how tall he is, but I think it was around 95 centimeters (about 37 inches). Whatever it was, he is in the 20th percentile for height. He also had a bad haircut (I take full responsibility for the unfortunate mishap with the clippers!) in December, so he has spent January regrowing his hair. (These are before and after pictures from December. . . he looks much better now!)

He also had a sore nose (from a late-December cold) that he kept picking at, so it grew into a bigger and bigger scab. We had to enforce wearing a band aid on his upper lip and then had to resort to socks over his hands to allow it to finally heal up, but it’s pretty well healed now.

Despite his wild-man ways, Andreas does have a tender little heart and will sometimes crawl into your lap for a hug or a story- preferably about a train, plane, dinosaur, car, boat. . . He definitely idolizes his Papa right now, which is really cute to see. His laugh is contagious, and he is a sweet boy. He brings so much fun and energy into our lives.

(Umm, you’re about a month late, aren’t you?!)

Well, technically, yes. Technically, the new year began on 01.01.2012 . . . which was a month ago. . . but allow me to explain why I am deeming this the start of the “new year.”

New Year’s Eve is my least favorite holiday. It brings along expectations that one is going to do something wild and crazy- sort of a second Mardi Gras, since you have to live it up before new resolutions take effect the next morning- but I’ve never really been a wild party girl. Even prior to having kids, I rarely managed to stay out late without threatening to fall asleep on the bar/table/whatever. Couple that with the fact that I am too cheap to want to shell out extra money for something I could do at a fraction of the cost on most other nights of the year, and you may start to see why I dislike the holiday.

My distaste for New Years also may stem from many less-than-stellar New Years in my memory. By far the most vivid for me is ringing in 1996, when we celebrated the new year in Germany. My grandfather was dying of cancer, and around 5AM, before our New Year’s Day flight back to the States, we had to take turns going upstairs to say our final farewell to our Opa. This is one of my saddest childhood memories, and I think of it every New Years.

Other not-quite-so-sad-but-fairly-random New Year’s Eve memories range from standing on a cold, foggy street with some other elementary / middle school kids banging on pots and pans to my entire family lying sick in a hotel bed in Cancun, Mexico, watching news reports about the death of JonBenet Ramsey. One year found me standing with friends at Underground Atlanta to watch the Peach drop (the Atlanta version of Times Square!), only to learn first hand that it really is not as exciting as it is hyped to be.

This year proved no exception in the not-so-fun-New-Years-Eve department. We left Iowa on December 30, and by that evening Caleb and I had both come down with a severe case of strep throat. We lay in our hotel in Ohio alternating between shivering and sweating from fever, trying to catch some sleep before a second tedious, long day of being trapped with 3 kids and a cat in a rental minivan. By the time we got home on the 31st; unloaded the kids, cat, and luggage; fed them a quick dinner; and got them into bed; we were exhausted. We crawled into bed at 8:30 and tortured ourselves further by watching a replay of the Northwestern bowl game (which NU predictably lost) and were asleep well before midnight– still suffering from sore throats and fevers, and now also bemoaning yet another NU bowl game loss.

Now, generally, my dislike extends only to the holiday. I love the promise of the new year itself: a chance for a fresh slate and a clean start, a chance to make new goals, to re-prioritize, and to weed out bad patterns or habits. This year, though, the rough New Years extended into a rough new year. In the past four weeks, various members of our family have suffered strep throat, a lice re-infestation, an injured tendon, a nasty wound that wouldn’t heal, another round of strep throat, a stomach virus (complete with middle-of-the-night vomiting), and diarrhea. Oh, the laundry I have done in the month of January!

I think, though, that we are over the worst of it. We are hopeful that this month, we can start with a fresh slate (and a clean bill of health!). Ambitions for good exercise and sleep habits are back on the table, as we cast off the illnesses that have encumbered and hindered. Along with those come renewed desires for more time with God and better stewardship of our precious free minutes and free dollars. So what if the year is already one-twelfth over? Choosing to re-boot 2012 is kind of liberating. Failure to stick to our resolutions in January- whether for lack of effort or for insurmountable circumstances- doesn’t matter.

In that sense, it is a lot like the chance God gives us- and we desperately need- to start over every day (or even every hour). God is steadfast in His compassion and mercy, which are new every morning (Lamentations 3). He longs for us to reject the actions and patterns of behavior that have come before; he is quick to let us start over, deliberate but unburdened by past mistakes and failures.

So, wherever you are in your lists of good intentions, goals, or resolutions, please join us in turning the calendar page and starting fresh. Good tidings to you, and a happy new year!

We drove up to New York City on Saturday, November 5, and arrived in the early afternoon, as incident-free as can be expected with 3 young children. Mom & Dad and KK & Mike were all assembled at the hotel, so we quickly checked in and boarded the last round of charter buses heading for the Expo at Javits Convention Center in Manhattan.

If you’ve never been to a race expo, you’re not really missing out. Besides picking up your number and race packet (often including your finisher’s t-shirt), you have the opportunity to sample an endless quantity of power bars, gels, and drinks while wandering through countless racks of running shoes, apparel, and other gear. In between, officials from other races press brochures and promotional material into your hands. The cynic in me doesn’t relish being required to attend a marketing/promotional session; the runner in me has to admit that there is a unique air of excitement and enthusiasm for running not found in many (any?) other venues.

Anyway, we spent the rest of the afternoon doing some sight seeing, though Andreas and Maria (and thus Caleb and I) did not last quite as long as the others. After an early night at the hotel and an extra hour of sleep (thank you, end of Daylight Savings time!), KK, Dad, and I arose at 4:30 AM to catch the buses to Staten Island.

About 47,000 people run the NYC marathon each year, and the race takes place in all five boroughs of NYC. (Before this trip, I could not have named all five.) The logistics of shutting down major roads and bridges throughout the city are, I’m sure, insane; it also means that the morning is a long one for most participants.

The “staging area” is Fort Wadsworth, which is on the eastern side of the island. Runners take buses or ferries at designated times to arrive at the fort by about 7 AM, which is when the Verrazano Bridge between Staten Island and Brooklyn closed to traffic. We were split into three different colors (blue, orange, and green) and three different “waves,” starting at 9:40, 10:10, and 10:40 AM. Within each wave, we were further subdivided into “corrals.” Dad was in the first wave, I was in the second, and KK was in the third.

During our many hours at the fort, we were fed coffee & bagels (courtesy of Dunkin Donuts), Power Bars and Gels, water, hot tea and hot chocolate, and Gatorade. We came prepared for the chill of sitting outside for so many hours, but the weather was gorgeous this year and made staying warm relatively easy. Conversation, food, and race preparations passed the time quickly, and before we knew it, it was time to find our respective UPS trucks, which would take our bags to the finish line for us.

Around 10:15, after months and months of training and anticipation and one final rendition of the Star Spangled Banner, I began the race. We began at the base of the Verrazano Bridge, which meant that we were packed in and running elbow to elbow even more than one normally is at the start of a big race. My first mile was thus much slower than my intended pace, but I overcompensated and ran my second much too fast. After that, I settled into a decent pace through Brooklyn and Queens. I slowed a bit coming across the Queensboro Bridge and then decided to start walking through the water stations in Manhattan. Still, I felt energized by the AMAZING crowd support.

Honestly, it was astonishing to see that so many people would stand along the side of the road and scream, clap, high-five, and otherwise cheer on the never-ending stream of spandex and dri-fit clad runners. The only place no one was cheering was on the bridges, and only because they were closed to non-runners.

I continued to feel strong as we passed into the Bronx and then back into Manhattan, but the hardest two miles for me were around 23 and 24, where we gradually ran uphill along Central Park for what seemed an eternity. Finally, we came around the southern edge of the park, passed through Columbus Circle, and entered the Park for the final stretch. I felt strong during my last 1.2 miles, and crossing the finish line was an amazing feeling.

Then came the worst part of the race: shuffling to our UPS vans to pick up the bags. We were not supposed to sit or stop unless we needed medical attention, so we continued walking. . . and walking. . . and walking. Mine happened to be the second to last truck, which meant that I walked about .6 miles- an eternity when all you want to do is get off your feet! After grabbing my belongings and changing out of my sweaty clothes, I again started walking. . . and walking. . . and walking.

We had arranged to meet just north of Columbus Circle, but because of where I exited the Park and road closures, I ended up walking (shuffling) almost 2 miles to meet up with Mike, Caleb, and Simona. All of that took close to an hour, and unfortunately, my chip had a glitch, so my mile 26 and finish times were not recorded. This meant that those tracking me didn’t know if I had finished. . . or collapsed at the end. Thankfully, I found them (courtesy of the highly visible German flags) shortly before they called the emergency number for missing runners!

In the end, it took about 2.5 weeks for the NYC Road Runners club (which administers the race) to determine my accurate finish time (via video recording of the finish line). The delay was a bit agonizing, especially because I didn’t stop my watch at the finish and so didn’t really know my final time. I am grateful to the NYCRR , though, for being so professional and thorough in resolving such glitches. In the end, my time was 3:41:33- not a PR (personal record), but my second fastest marathon and well under my hoped-for goal of 3:45. I was thrilled with the entire experience: the weather, the crowds, the city, the course, my effort, and my time.

We finished off the weekend with Sunday morning brunch with a dear old friend, Leslie, whose dad completed residency with my dad in Chicago in the early 1980s. We lived in the same building then, and our families have kept in touch over the years. I hadn’t seen Leslie since high school, so it was wonderful to reconnect!

One final but very important note: I could not have achieved this without Caleb’s tremendous support. During the many months of training, he took on an extra childcare burden while I mapped out, planned for, and executed my many, many training runs. He sacrificed his own sleep, time, and work-out time to let me focus on this, and I’m extremely grateful. I’ve promised him a break from marathoning, so I’ll be focusing on some shorter runs for the next few years. But come 2014 or 2015, I hope to be taking on the London Marathon. Let’s see if I stick to it!