Bloggedy blog blog

I just spent the last hour going through my blog posts from last summer.

I laughed, I cried, I got a little jealous of myself.

I really think that's the best part of blogging -- being able to look back at different times and see what we were up to. Since we have both been such ridiculously inconsistent and boring bloggers as of late, I'm sure Chris and I are our only readers at this point... but, my hope is that next summer I'll be able to look back with fondness at our pregnancy and post-ankle-accident induced laziness (and Chris's standard of being "lazy" would have my crying with exhaustion, but to each his own...).

As for my current state -- I am 33 1/2 weeks preggo, still expanding rapidly, eating constantly, and staying "active" by walking up the stairs to the bathroom every ten minutes to pee, walking the dog when it's not over 90 degrees, belaying Chris at the climbing gym*, and once-weekly prenatal yoga. I hope to ride my bike or trainer a few more times before JJ makes his appearance, but it's so darn hot that I seriously lack the motivation to even try. I can't complain though, it has been really fun to have a summer "off" from the pressures of constantly doing something and I am loving almost every second of growing this little guy.

There are only a few more precious weeks of vacation before school starts back up again. I really have enjoyed having the summer off. I can't complain about not working during my third trimester! I will be working a few weeks before having twelve weeks off with the kiddo, so while that few weeks will be really brutal and HOT HOT HOT (darn ghetto schools with no a/c), I'll make it.

Well, that's about it for now!

*belaying Chris at the gym is always super entertaining. Only in Boulder can someone 8 months pregnant get asked if she's climbing that 5.11 next -- haha, my response is always "uhh, no, but thanks for believing in me!". I also got stalked by an acupuncturist lady wanting to feel my "tired pulses" and make the uncanny observation that I "must be tired" because she can tell from my eye vibes, pulses (we have more than one pulse?), and some other crap. Really? Someone 8 months pregnant in the heat of July being tired? Wow! She's insightful :) Haha. She was nice, but... ummmm... yeah. There's Boulder for ya!

When in Rome...

Or should I say...

When 32 weeks pregnant...

Do as the tourists do!

That's exactly what we just spent the day doing, and it was fabulous.

As I mentioned in my last blog, I've had a bit of a rough time adjusting to my more sedentary lifestyle. Afterall, summers are usually the time that Chris and I rack up some good 14er hiking in our attempt to finish all 54 as a couple, but since I have a physical and moral obligation to my unborn baby to not deprive him of oxygen, that can't happen. It is 100% worth it, but it's still an adjustment.

Last night we found ourselves just outside of Aspen in the wonderful town of Carbondale, for a Ride the Divide showing, featuring Chris as the Q&A speaker at the end. The movie is great and it's fun watching people ooh and aah over Chris doing the route on a single speed just a few days short of the overall record time. Before the show, we had some great Thai food with the filmmakers and we got to stay the night for free in a super cute little cabin owned by the lady who brought the movie to Carbondale. It was really nice of her to give up her house to Chris, Turbo, and I for the night!

This morning we went back to Dos Gringos (where the movie was shown) for some awesome breakfast burritos. If you ever find yourself in Carbondale, find Dos Gringos, it is soooooooooooo delicious (if you've ever been to the coffee shop adjacent to Absolute Bikes in Salida, it's very similar).

Since we were already in the area, we headed up to Aspen to go see the Maroon Bells. Chris had a plan to climb the Bells the night before, but instead he played his role as super-baby-daddy and stayed the night with me instead (have I mentioned that he is an awesome husband?? :) ). Because we were headed up to Maroon Lake after 9 am, we had to take the tourist shuttle up the road. Chris and I were both literally and figuratively, well, very out of our element. As the driver drove five miles an hour up the road, stopping to talk about avalanche chutes and aspen trees, Chris and I worked to entertain ourselves. We did listen just long enough for the bus driver to tell the bus of tourists that "there are 54 14,000 foot mountains in Colorado, called 14ers, which is why Colorado is called the 'Rocky Mountain State'". Ummm, what? He also proceeded to tell everyone that the Bells are nicknamed The Deadly Bells because "every year, at least one person goes up and falls off the mountain". Ummm, okay, not really, but okay.

It was also nearly noon and in Colorado, you don't go up to the high mountains to walk around at noon. Daily rain and thunder storms make this idea stupid, and not even once did the driver warn the poor tourists not to head *up* any of the trails. Luckily it was raining as we exited the bus, so hopefully not many of them decided to walk to the higher lake as they had planned. We walked the short path to Maroon Lake and got a good little peak at the Bells before standing under the shelter of the bathrooms analyzing various couloirs and climbing routes in the area. It was really nice to be in the mountains instead of on the couch like I have spent most of this summer. The Bells were fantastically beautiful and I can't wait to go back to climb them. If you are from out of town and find yourself in the Aspen area, it is worth taking this bus up to the lake to look around. The views are spectacular!

32 week picture!

It was rainnnnnnnnny.

After a short time spent admiring the Bells, we walked around the Aspen ski area a little bit and discovered a store devoted completely to brownies. Marni-heaven! Then, Chris decided to take us home via Independence Pass -- a highway that connects Aspen and Leadville through some amazing country.

We even pulled off at the top of the pass to walk to the overlook and admire the clearing weather and spectacular views. We even got to gawk at La Plata, a 14er that we hiked in the snow in November 2008. I love looking at a big peak, knowing that I have been on the top, and remembering the beautiful views we saw along the way and the horrible knee pain I had coming back down.

The big flat-topped looking mountain behind us is La Plata and Ellingwood Ridge. Yes, I'm wearing three coats...

Chris will always be Chris and got excited when he found a place to boulder along the trail. Haha.

This person seemed scared that they'd fall off the side of the pass, so instead of driving in their lane, they nearly creemed several oncoming cars by driving pretty far over the center line. Hmmmm....

Coming back into Leadville, we got to see more of the mountains we climbed the last few years, and it was fun trying to pick out and name each of them. We constantly had our 14ers book out, comparing pictures to views, and telling stories of previous trips. When we got into town, we stopped at the best pizza place in the area (which is tiny and was packed because of the rain), and we took the pizza back into the car to eat. It was soooooooo tasty. Go there too.

This is a bit of a gross picture of me, but it shows how excited Turbo was for us to come eat our lunch in the car.

We finally headed back on I70 and got home not too long ago.

The day was rainy, but getting to be in the mountains with Chris at all, even at a tourist level, was fantastic. It was an important reminder to slow down once in a while, forget about doing everything the hard way, and just enjoy this beautiful state that we're lucky enough to live in.

Kudos to the Daddy

Pregnancy is a really bizarre time.

The things that you take for granted everyday, like rolling over in bed, sleeping soundly on your back, or shaving your own legs become impossible.

I have had a remarkably easy pregnancy -- no daily puking being high on the list of things I'm incredibly grateful for -- but even so, this hasn't been the easiest of adventures. But I'm lucky. I get to feel the little wiggle-worm squirm inside me and change positions and get morning hiccups. I get the compliments of friends and total strangers of being "beautiful" even when I feel far from it.

I think Chris deserves some serious kudos for his role in this adventure though, because without him, I would be a huge mess. In reading various baby board threads, so many women rag on their husbands for being insensitive, rude, and downright awful during their pregnancies. I always take these posts with a grain of salt, afterall a hormone-enraged pregnant woman is writing about it on an internet forum. But they also make me appreciate my "baby daddy" even more.

Sure, Chris has developed a nickname for me this pregnancy that some might take as, well, insensitive... but "Giant Whale Wifey" is only said out of love and when I'm actually feeling like a giant whale, he is full of sweet things to say.

Now that my ab muscles have essentially disintegrated beneath this kid, who is the one who pushes me up off the couch, pulls me out of a chair, or rolls me out of bed? Hubby.

Who has rearranged his own sleeping position to accommodate my mote-o-blankets that surrounds me at night? Who makes sure he sleeps a little closer so if I start to tip over, I at least tip onto him? Hubby.

When I whine and complain and get hormonal and sad about all of the things that I *can't* do this summer, like hiking 14ers, racing the Winter Park mtb series, and eating at our favorite summer deli, guess who is there to talk me down, remind me that this great time will only come once or twice in our lifetimes? Hubby.

Who goes with me to birthing classes that are taught by a really annoying lady, answers questions for me so I don't have to be the one talking in front of the group, and passes me funny notes about the ridiculous guy across the room who just stepped out of a time machine from 1986? My wonderful hubby.

Who goes on a walk with me, and when I get hot, offers to let me wear his shorts while he wears his shirt as a skirt? That's my man! (and no, I did not take him up on this generous offer!)

I could probably go on forever about how great and supportive and wonderful he's been throughout the last 31 weeks, almost six years of marriage, and 9 years of knowing each other, but we have a birthing class and Cold Stone ice cream date coming up awfully quickly.

Thank you hubby for all you have done for me! Hopefully this post doesn't embarrass you too much, but I think the blog world should know that you're not only an awesome biker, climber, mountaineer, and friend, but you are one kickass baby-daddy as well.

(disclaimer: I really hate the term "baby daddy" too, but since everyone complains about theirs, I might as well brag about mine :) )

JJ's blog

Here is a link to baby JJ's new blog!

Another update on my blog to come soon since I really have nothing better to do than sit in the coolish basement on the couch and avoid the heat of the day! I have exhausted any slightly interesting internet links, am seriously caught up on reading blogs, and simply cannot stand 99% of TV that's on.

Time to start blogging again!

Cobwebs

Today, the 90+ degree weather finally eased up and Chris, Turbo, and I managed to get out to Colorado Hills for a beautiful ride. The cloud cover was heavenly after sweltering the last few days and being out in the fresh air was a welcome relief from hiding in the coolness of the basement.

After picking through pretty much every pair of shorts and every jersey in my bike drawer, I finally resigned myself to the fact that I have officially outgrown everything I own. Luckily I have an awfully nice hubby who doesn't mind me poaching his stuff, so outfitted in a pair of his shorts and his jersey, we were finally on our way. Turbo and I drove to the dogpark while Chris rode over there.

The ride was slow going, but not as slow and painful as I expected. At 27 weeks preggo, I wasn't quite sure how the little rocks and bumpiness would go. Other than making me stop to pee (which is pretty ridiculous considering we rode for a total of, maybe 5 miles?), I felt pretty good. In the beginning of this pregnancy and most of the way through the second trimester, I was pretty good at staying on the trainer at least every other day for a half hour just to keep *some* of my leg fitness I've worked so hard to get over the last few years. As school got crazy and I was spending all of my time and energy working and in night class, that routine quickly got thrown out the window.

Pretty yellow flowers everywhere and those heaven-sent clouds!

I'm really glad I found a comfy non-SLR seat pre-preggo that I like. I'm pretty sure I'd be cursing the SLR right about now...

Today, I am happy to report, that my legs actually felt like they had decent power. I think it's from heaving my heavy butt around every day (yes, I've gained a little more than 1/5th of my pre-pregnancy weight already and four pounds this week alone. As the dr said, "pregnancy seems to be the great equalizer" in the weight category, and since my BMI was under 18 when I got preggo, they warned me I'd gain quite a bit. But still. YIKES!!!!).

There were many-a-cobwebs to clean out of both my legs and my mind but by the time the ride was done I felt better than I have in over a month. For a little while there, I sorta felt like my old self -- which is a welcome feeling when you wake up every morning looking and feeling drastically different than you ever have before.

I love my boys.

You know the pup had a great time when he spends the ride home drooling all over the arm rest.

In other news, we finally -- after a few years of having an empty room after moving the couch and TV to the cooler basement -- have our living room furnished again! It took a while to get there, but our new couches are awesome and the fresh coat of paint (to cover up the bike tire marks from the trainers/rollers being too close to the wall -- whoops) look fantastic. I can't wait to spend many many hours playing in this room with baby!

The room is not totally finished, but it's pretty darn close and I love going down here just to sit and enjoy.

Since we had to get rid of the guest bed upstairs to make room for Baby, we found a couch that converts pretty awesomely into bed (the bottom near the chaise pulls out and makes one gigantic rectangle couch/bed).

We are also slowly getting moving on the nursery, but that deserves its own blog later this week!

Bitter sweet end

As of Friday around 1:30, I have officially been on SUMMER BREAK!!! (at least from work, as my Maymester grad class does not end until this Friday...)

It was very strange finishing out this year. I was stressed, very short on patience, and frankly feeling quite gigantic. For the past couple of years, the school year has ended with weekly time trials down at Cherry Creek, which managed to keep me sane, relaxed, and focused on something else rather than the end of school. This year school ended with me taking classes four out of five nights a week, little to no exercise, and little to no actual sleep.

It was rough.

Luckily the kids were good and we ended the year on a positive note. Chris was sweet enough to join us at our end of the year celebration (parents like to call it "graduation", but really? It's Kindergarten...). We both watched in awe as one of my little guys wolfed down a plate FULL of hot cheetos and washed it down with orange sugar juice -- and that was all. We were constantly amazed at the parents inhaling multiple plates of food and pizza while the teachers stood around hungry. Chris played a version of "fetch" with the wound up five year olds for an hour outside to help burn off the four or five cupcakes that they each managed to snag before anyone noticed.

My favorite part of the day? One parent wanted a class picture, so we gathered up all of the cheeto stained kids and smiled for a few pictures before one of them, and then all of them, adamantly insisted that Chris be in the picture too. Those kids loved him from the moment they saw him and they were luckily enough to have in come in help on a fairly regular basis. Even if he was just in for a few minutes, they would crowd around him with books or their writing journals and want nothing more than to read with him, show off their writing, or tell him funny stories. By the end of the last day, he even became their new tattling post (much to my pleasure to pass on that crown). Chris is an AMAZING teacher for those kids and as hard as I've tried I can't seem to convince him to teach Kindergarten. Any school that doesn't hire him to teach there is missing out on an amazing opportunity. There are not many of him out in this world -- wanting to teach because he genuinely wants to make a difference -- his care, love, and management shocks me every time I see him with my students.

Packing up my classroom this year was a bit of a bitter sweet experience. I absolutely could not wait to be done. This summer holds so many exciting things that I've waited years and years to do -- painting and preparing a nursery at the top of that list. But at the same time, it was hard to pack up the classroom knowing that when I return in August, I will be 9 months pregnant, about to explode, and essentially setting up MY classroom and MY students for someone else to teach for three months. I know that when I go back after Thanksgiving, I will want to be somewhere else. There will be another kid in my life to focus my energy on, and I know that it might take a year or two to get back to being as good of a teacher as I know I can be. It will be, well, different.

Good different, but different.

And I'm not generally a fan of different. Different overwhelms me.

Hence many many tears yesterday, some undue anxiety, and inner stress when all I *should* be doing is enjoying being on summer break.

But, as with any year, I think a week of decompression and rest is going to make all the difference in the world.

Then we can start working on that nursery!!

Meanwhile, since blogs are not as fun without pictures, here are a few from our little jaunt up Eldorado Canyon today -- Chris bouldering around, me pushing his pad so he would fall on something soft.

As we hiked up to the boulder, Chris told me "we have to think of something funny to answer when people ask what's on my back?" (bouldering pad), I just sorta scoffed but not thirty seconds later a nice, old, tourist man said "What is that thing on your back?" Haha. It was funny...
26 weeks! Chris now calls me "Chunky Monkey".
I am one to admit that I think bouldering is one of the stupider aspects of climbing. You climb something short, with no protection but a pad on the ground. Chris took me so I could see what it really is like. He's right. It serves its purpose, looks hard, and is not really that dangerous (at least today, haha).

Conversation of the day

Yes it is only 9:30 am on Saturday morning and we already have a winner for the "conversation of the day" between hubby and I.

me: "are you having an emotional affair?" (joking, I'm reading a pretty funny/sad thread on one of the baby boards)

C: "with my skis?"

me: "maybe"

C: "No more of an emotional affair than you're having with that picture of brownies and cream cookies."

:)

Self-rule

We all read Lord of the Flies by William Golding in high school right? Where the schoolboys are left to govern themselves on the island and all sorts of horrible, yet totally predictable, things end up happening?

Well, today I found out what would happen if that situation ever arose with my classroom of kids.

I am sick.

Really really stinkin' sick.

I was better enough to even go to yoga on Wednesday (don't even get me started on how fantastic prenatal yoga feels), but then Thursday I regressed big time and now I have a horrible hacking cough complete with Snuffleupagus voice and all (wait, does he talk? I'm sure he does, and he probably sounds like me).

If it weren't taking one precious paid day away from my already thin maternity leave in the fall, I would've called a sub and stayed home crying in bed. But alas...

Needless to say, my kids did not get the normally authoritative and "teacher-voiced" teacher they are used to today. Luckily it was field day for the rest of the school, so I felt some sort of power to slack off and feel good about it. As my kids played puzzles this morning for no good reason, I needed them to clean up. I "shouted" (okay, wheezed) out a "clean up" and this is when I realized what would happen if Lord of the Flies happened in room 224.

One kid heard me say clean up, and then, almost simultaneously, 17 five year olds broke out in the "Clean Up" song -- yeah, the one from Barney (Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere, clean up clean up, everybody do your share...).

UGH! I HATE THAT SONG!!

I have it banned from my classroom for a good reason.

Only they didn't just sing that song, they just sang the "Clean up, clean up, clean up, clean up, clean up" part. For ten minutes.

Ah, self-rule in Kindergarten. Enough to make anyone nutzzzz.

8ish days left!!

Empty Threat

My kids will not be quiet.

Life is just oh too exciting in May and they don't want anyone to miss out on any part of it.

When Teacher is preggo and suffering from a really nasty cold, she can be a little... well... short on patience.

Today when they wouldn't be quiet about five minutes before the final bell rang for school to get out, I threw out the empty threat that "we can sit here all night if we have to!" only to be greeted by...

Excited squeals and "YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I guess I had that coming.

9ish school days left...

Happy mother's day!

Well, it's that time of year again.

May daze.

The time of year when students are sick of each other, students are sick of Teacher, and Teacher is sick of students.

I'm there. My kids are there. We've been there for a few weeks now. But there are still shining moments...

It is also that time of year for assessments.

Long gone are the days when Kindergarten was all fun and games. My kids are expected to read, write, add, and subtract. Every year there are kids that shock me with what they managed to learn during the school year. I love teaching Kindergarten because I don't feel like I teach them a whole lot, but then one day they manage to read you a book. After five years, I'm still not sure how they actually learn to read.

I have one little guy that I'm so proud of that I can't help but brag about him here. He was not dealt the easiest home life. His mom struggles to make ends meet. Before he entered my class this year, he was one of *those* kids that you hear about ahead of time. I was warned about him. I was warned about his behavior, lack of attention and self-control, and, despite being in a preschool program, had managed to learn next to nothing.

When he came into my room he still could not write his name and his letters more closely resembled an uncontrolled scribble than English. He was a handful.

Today he came in for his end-of-the-year testing and he is leaving Kindergarten "on grade level" in reading, writing, AND math. His behavior is good -- he still struggles with self-control now and then, but he's good. He's generally polite. He genuinely cares about other people. I don't take any credit for any of this, he has been greatly blessed with an amazing mom.

She kicked out his bad-influence father so that her son could have a better life. She has held her child to seriously high standards academically and worked with him at home more than any parent I have had in my class -- because she knows how hard life is when you drop out of school. She has put her own aspirations aside to make sure he has a steady home-life. She takes him to the boys' club to make sure he stays active and is able to get his energy and aggression out in a productive way.

Today I had the pleasure of showing her exactly how far he has come. She whipped tattered flash cards out of her coat pocket that she made and has been working on him with. She downplays her role in his success, but I admire her.

A few hours later my student came knocking on my door with a mother's day card in his hand. For me. From him and his mom.

I just hope that I can be as good of a mom to my son as she is to hers.

Catch-up

Well, I haven't blogged in a while.

Work, grad school, and growing a person are keeping me really busy and without anything terribly interesting to say. I would say that all will calm down after my linguistics class ends in two weeks, but I am now also enrolled in a Maymester class that will be three intense weeks of 4:30-8:30 T-F class. Ick! So my new goal is to survive until June 5th-ish, when that class will be done and I will be dangerously close to finishing my masters.

So, rather than trying to make something exciting out of a pretty uneventful last few weeks, here are some random pictures to hold the blog over until I actually have something to say...
There are so many unattractive parts to this picture, including my post-ride, pre-shower face/hair, and the sheetless bed in the background, but it does show the growing belly off pretty well! I took this last weekend, which will probably be the last ride that I am able to squeeze into my team jersey. This even required a bit of a *shove the belly in and ZIP!* effort. I do love my belly though!

Turbo has taken an extreme loving to his little brother already as he seems to have become especially protective of me and even snugglier than usual

The climbing harness still fits -- I've sorta relegated myself to belay-only duty though. Chris particularly enjoys this :)

Nom nom nom. A few weeks ago I made a pretty spectacular meal of home-made ravioli, pancetta, asparagus, and butter. Mmmmmmmm. Yummmmmm.

And to all of you SlipAngles fans, here are two pictures to prove that Chris did not, in fact, fall off the face of the planet. He's taking a bit of a blog-break, but I try to convince him daily to get back into it :) He, too, has been a busy busy bee!

It's a...

Oh BOY my nephew was excited to cut open the blue "gender cake" and see the color! He stood fast in his prediction of boy while his uncles, sister, and mom tried to convince him he was wrong. Good guess Trevor!
And yes, I realize one day our little guy will kill me for posting this shot, but it's a fun one :)

Resisting the urge...

And only slightly succeeding.

The urge to become a very lazy pregnant bump on a log is really hard to resist.

While Chris was in Alaska I did a fairly good job at getting into a routine of riding the trainer and walking the dog. That made me feel a little less lazy.

As he's returned, so too has my sedentary lifestyle. I'm not sure why. Afterall, he's the motivator behind most activity that I actually do.

I did get out for a good ride last Saturday with the team. Skipping Cherry Creek Time Trials this year (the fun aspect of the race's organization seems to have slipped, and the course has changed -- thus no good baseline for personal improvement), the team has decided to start monthly "death matches" up Lookout Mountain. As the emails shot back and forth about who could make it and how it would be pulled off, I grew increasingly jealous. I really do love Lookout Mountain. I have slogged my butt up that mountain and cried on the descent, and I've also raced my hardest up and beat my best expectations for my own performance. I've frozen my butt off, nearly broiled to death, but always have a good time.

So, last Saturday, my 15 week pregnancy mark, the group did their first death match. I couldn't resist. Despite some urging from a few teammates not to do it (you know, the preggoness and all), I wanted to go up and have a nice fun ride with the group. For the last three years Chris and I have both done the research on what I'll be able to safely do and not safely do when I could finally get pregnant. The only pieces of advise that we could come across were to keep my heartrate below 140 (although that also appears to be old research, that was the only guideline both the OB and fertility doc both gave me, so I follow it), avoid extreme altitude, and not to lose balance and fall over. I could handle all of these things and so I decided to ride.

The day was spectacularly beautiful and I'm glad I got out. I started out WAY before the rest of the group and spun my very easiest (which is hard to do completely uphill). I stopped at a few pullouts and enjoyed the view. I drank a lot of water and fueled myself with peanut butter m&ms. I cheered my teammates on as they passed me one by one and eventually just enjoyed the cruise up the hill and making conversation with people passing me huffing and puffing. It was quite nice. It took me forever to get to the top (52 minutes or something? My PR from the race last May is 27 minutes). I didn't care about the time and was mostly proud of myself for getting out and huffing the baby up a decent hill.

I even got to shock one snooty roadie who passed me in his fancy-schmancy team kit on his fancy-schmany Cervelo, who had the nerve to remark about how slow I was going (or perhaps about the fact that I was wearing a pack for a road ride) near the top. When I yelled out "hey man, four months pregnant!" the "OH SHIT!" was priceless. Serves him right. What guy really makes a snide comment to a girl riding her bike anyway? What an ass. It was great.

The ride went well and we hurried off to the car because I had a hair appointment in Boulder shortly after. We were still a half hour late for the appointment, and I somehow managed to pull a muscle getting OUT of the car (really, I can ride my bike just fine, but get hurt getting out of a car? This must be Chris's kid...). I spent the next two days in pain, so that was lovely. A rough week at work coupled with some self-induced laziness, has brought me to today. It is Sunday. I am trying to convince myself to go walk the dog after just finishing some really boring and not very-well-done-homework.

Or I could go eat some more.

Hmmm, yes, that does sound like the better option...

(Here are some 16 week pics taken yesterday. Not the best pictures, AT ALL, but you can see the baby bump starting to stick out.)
The levitating doggy trick!
And her belly was as white as snow...
This angle doesn't show it very well, but Turbo sure looks cute :)

Tangled Tales

Today I had to choose four of my students to come down and talk with a very strange lady training us on how to expand our students' oral language.

First of all, yes, apparently some of us need to learn how to *talk* to kids. Really. Amazed me too.

Second of all, my kids are five. Maybe six. There were 10 teachers watching and this very strange lady talking to them (did I mention she's a bit strange?).

So anyway, she told me to get four monolingual English speakers that have oral language issues. I laughed. If she wanted four monolingual English speakers, she'd have to settle for whoever I brought down, as I only really have four in my classroom. Total.

As she was talking to the kids about "Brown Bear, Brown Bear" she realized that the book she chose did not really lend itself to much conversation. That book has its purposes, and creating conversation about events and meaning are not one of them. So, after telling a very unfunny story about a cat sitting on her bed (which she evidently thought was hilarious) she asked one of my students to tell a story about a dog. The one boy in the group started a wonderful story, and it went a little something like this.

"Once upon a time there was a dog."

(lady stares at him and then asked "what was the dog doing?")

"Well, the dog went on a walk. To downtown."

(At this point I'm thinking the kid is a rockstar, because this is going to be one good story and blow this lady out of the water. I must admit I started to beam with pride. The lady asks "wow! what did he do downtown?")

"Someone killed him. The end."

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Hmmmmmmmm.

And there you have it.

Needless to say, she did not ask any of my other kids to tell a story.

The end.

Unstoppable

October 5, 2009 seems like an entire lifetime ago.

In reality, it was five months ago.

Exactly.

Five months ago that I drove home from school feeling generally *okay* about the miscarriage for the first time in a week, and celebrating my first day without breaking down in tears by listening (and poorly singing to) oldies on the radio.

As I pulled up to the house, I looked in the front window as I always do when Chris has been on an adventure that day. I saw him sitting at the table by his computer, as I usually do, and sighed a quick sigh of relief that he was home -- until I spotted the crutches propped up against the table next to him. I zoomed into the garage, took a deep breath, and headed into the house only to see Chris at the table not willing to turn to face me. I greeted the ever excited dog and walked around to the table to see him sitting on the phone with blood shot eyes, a bloody eyebrow, and a look of shock. I'll never forget what he said when I asked what happened -- "you're going to be soooooooo mad at me!"

As he told me the story of being caught in an avalanche and being pretty sure he broke his ankle -- all while waiting on hold with Kaiser to find the cheapest place to get immediate treatment -- I couldn't believe what I was hearing. There was no room to be mad. I was extremely grateful he was alive and I quickly took over the task of waiting on hold, packing up items for an evening at the hospital, and whipping up some portable food.

As we drove the hour to the cheapest after-hour care facility down near my parents' house, we both were in a state of shock. Sometimes giggling from nervousness, sometimes being silent, but never once letting go of the death-grip each of us had on each other's hand.

As I sat with my head between my knees in the doctor's office as the brutal nurse wrapped the clearly broken ankle, fighting the urge to pass out, I remember thinking that things could've been a lot worse.

As I drove a writhing-in-pain-Chris home, I knew these seven days would change both of us somehow.

As I spent that night staring at his chest, willing him to self-heal any possible internal injuries that the doctors didn't check for, popping him pills every hour, and fighting visuals of what had happened, I hoped he'd return to his usual adventurous, excited-self.

As we spent the next two weeks sleeping maybe two hours at a time, I found myself feeling irritated that he somehow couldn't find a way to heal quicker. He seemed to be thinking the same thing.

As he accepted the invitation to ride the Iditarod Trail Invitational in Alaska at the end of February, and as he ordered his new fancy-dancy custom single speed snow bike, we were both excited, but both apprehensive that he'd even be in shape to do it. Both of us were running on pure faith at that point. How else can we justify, looking back on it, spending so much money toward this adventure when moving from the bed upstairs to the couch downstairs was an event in itself?

As Chris started having doubts and talking about backing out of this race, I told him not to decide anything until the very last minute. "You never know where you'll be in a few months, maybe you can do it! Or, well, at least maybe you can just go and enjoy a trip to Alaska..." We both could talk a good game at individual points in time, but to be 100% honest, did either of us consider that he would *actually* be able to do it? The whole thing? I don't know. I know I hoped he could.

So here we are today, five months later, to the day. Today, on March 5th, 5 months after that crazy, ankle-crushing accident, Chris is inching dangerously close to McGrath. The finish line. He could finish late tonight. It could be tomorrow. Only time will tell. He will have ridden/walked/slogged/pushed his singlespeed through really tough conditions for 350 miles.

I can't wait to hear his story. I know the ankle will play a factor. I know that when he returns from his trip, that limp will be there -- probably more prevalent than the last few months.

But really? FIVE months later? To be finishing (quite well might I add) arguably the most brutal winter bike race in the world?

Wow.

I am bursting with pride.

There will be a lot of tears when he returns, there always are after a big adventure like this. But tears of pride and joy will be mixed with tears of relief. As my belly starts to pop with a new baby, and Chris tells tales of the Iditarod, I think we will finally be able to leave that awful week behind. We won't forget the lessons we learned from those two terrible Mondays, but we can move on.

Happy 5-month-breakaversary darling.

And a premature, but very proud, CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Idita-wha?

Tomorrow hubby leaves for Alaska where he'll spend the next, oh, three to ten days riding his beautiful Fatback on the Iditarod trail -- starting Sunday.

Before meeting Chris, my exposure to the Iditarod trail came primarily where most elementary teacher's knowledge comes from -- the book Balto. Yes, Balto. You probably read it in elementary school if you went in the 80s or 90s. I even used it as a guided reading book for my super high group when I taught 1st grade. It's a good book. I'm pretty sure at some point in my elementary career we also tracked the progress of the Iditarod dogs on some giant map. From there, my mind drifts to eskimos with furry hoods, beautiful husky dogs, and wind blowing snow across a barren landscape.

When I met Chris, he wasn't into this nutty stuff. He had a motorcycle and raced for the CU Triathlon team. That was all pretty normal. As everything spiraled out of control, as it often does with him, and I became introduced to the world of endurance cycling, he would talk about the Ultrasport -- or Iditabike -- or Iditarod Trail Invitational. Beats me what it's actually called, because I've heard all of these used to describe it... Hmmm... oh well. Doesn't matter. Anyway, I came to realize that the Iditarod trail in the winter was not just for eskimos and husky dogs any more. I didn't think it was for MY Chris, but I certainly saw that other crazies could do it on foot or on bike.

Fast forward to about July of 2009. Chris was coming down off his Tour Divide high and said he would love to do the Ultrasport but that it usually fills up so fast that there's no way he'd get in. Being the ever-encouraging wife, and knowing full well that he most likely wouldn't make it in, I told him to look into it. He did. It was full. Alaska was a no-go. Awww shucks ;)

Fast forward again to early October 2009. Chris was healing for crazy broken ankle, feeling pretty down on life and sports in general. We were both recovering from the biggest physical upset either of us had ever gone through, and life was taken one tiny step at a time. I tried to cheer Chris up, give him some goal to work towards or something to look forward to. My attempts were usually lame and not helpful. One day, as I prepared the gazillionth dinner in a row for the two of us, ready to schlep it upstairs to the bed that doubled as a dinner table -- I heard a really loud "HOLY CRAP! NO WAY!" come shouting from the bedroom. My little zombie had come to life suddenly! Scared his foot had somehow fallen off or he suddenly realized it was perfectly fine and not actually broken (the only two plausible causes for such a reaction at the time), I ran to the stairs and yelled "WHAT?" "You won't believe it!!" He hobbled to the top of the stairs and there was a look of elation on his face. "WHAAAATTTTT?" (wifey gets a little cranky without sleep...) "Umm, how do you feel about me going to Alaska in February????" (big giant smile) I specifically remember saying "wow! what do you mean?" in a pretty flat tone as I went back to the kitchen (yeah, cranky...). I'm pretty sure that wasn't the reaction he expected. He went on to explain that Bill had emailed him and asked if he wanted a spot on the start list. There was a brief conversation of Chris asking me if it was okay for him to go (really, would I tell my depressed broken husband that he couldn't do the one thing that had brought a smile to his face in the last two weeks???) and then general giddiness for the rest of the night. While his smile grew, my worries grew.

Now don't get me wrong, I was happy for him. I believed in him. I knew he would somehow be able to do it. But I'd read Jill's book, followed her exploits the following year on the internet, and then got to hear her frostbite stories from the Ultrasport firsthand as we drove her up to Banff. I had also just experienced snow being a bad, bad, bad thing.

With time, as always seems to happen, my excitement for this race grew right along with Chris's. As he ordered his new bike, waited what seemed like forever to get it, and watched him push his body to heal itself, I became more than a little invested in this race with him.

As he leaves tomorrow, with a feeling of being underprepared, undertrained, and rookie-ish, I see a pretty kickass husband getting ready to go have an unbelievable adventure. The rest of the world probably wishes they were as "undertrained" as he is. We could all be so lucky. Sure, his body isn't 100% perfect, but if I've ever met anyone who can override their physical state with stubbornness and willpower, it'd be him. I envy the views he's going to take in up in Alaska. I envy the feeling of being away from civilization, away from bills, away from work, away from internet and cell phones. I envy the possibility of seeing the northern lights. I don't envy the cold, but whatever, that's just not my cup of tea.

I know that, as with every adventure he sets his mind to, things will end up exceeding his expectations. Things will not go perfectly -- they never do. There will be highs and lows and times of self-doubt. But no matter what, he will always have me back here at home believing in him, trusting him, cheering him on as loudly as one can do inside her head or inside a closed car. I, personally, along with more than a few of you, will be glued to the updates on the web. The ultrasport does not allow racers to carry a SPOT (my beef with that ranges far and wide), so I will depend on someone else to let me know how hubby is doing. I don't trust very easily. But I do trust Chris. And I know he'll be doing the best that he can, hopefully soaking in views that most of us will never be lucky enough to set eyes on.

Good luck my Christopher. Enjoy the journey, whatever it brings.

Long Road...

It has been a long road and quite the journey, but...

my

is

!!!!!!!!!!!

Baby Plesko is due Saturday, September 4th (labor day weekend!). I just turned over the 12 week mark and we've seen a healthy, growing, happy, wonderful, and ridiculously cute baby three times on ultrasound already. We thought it was time to share our exciting news with the world!

Look how cute he/she is already! Showing off those future climbing arms and riding legs :)

Eenie Meenie...

Here is a conversation (ok, game) that I overheard one of my girls playing today during inside recess. She was sitting with four other girls.

"Eeenie, Meenie, odda oh, patcha mida, bodda, bo. My momma told me to pick my very best friend and you, you, you, no wait, you, are it" (and she pointed to one girl. When the other girls threw a hissy fit she went on to say...) "Okay, you are all going to be my friends, I just have to pick, okay? Is that so hard? Eeenie, Meenie, odda oh, patcha mida, bodda, bo..."

And this continued on for nearly ten minutes. Choosing a different person each time until all the girls were completely satisfied with her choice. Then they continued on with their puzzle. For a second I thought about interrupting and teaching her the *actual* words to eenie meenie, but then again, those don't make much sense either, so I let it go.

While I'm on funny kid stories, I told Chris this one the other day and he insisted that I put it on the blog... so it must be good :)

When my kids came in the other morning, one of the moms pulled me aside and said "check little homie's backpack, he has something pretty inappropriate for a 5 year old..." First the problem was figuring out who the heck "little homie" was. I didn't figure that out, so I called over my three most likely suspects and told them to bring me their backpacks because "I hear someone has something interesting that I should see." They all ran into the coatroom and got their backpacks and came back. My MOST likely suspect brought me his first and said "I have something! Want to see??!!!" so I thought -- oh good, that was easy. He opens up his backpack and what does he pull out? A very loved, red, stuffed bear. He beamed from ear to ear and was so excited to show me -- "cool, huh Mrs Plesko!" Haha. The next kid joyfully opened his backpack only to reveal a very loved, stuffed elephant. Nice. The last kid -- the one I'd probably least suspect of the three (who is also BEST friends with the red bear kid), grudgingly hands over his backpack and there's nothing in it. I was totally confused. Then suspect number 1 shouts out -- very happily might I add, with no hesitation of ratting out his best friend -- "he has a knife in there!" Turns out the kid slipped the fake dagger (okay, it did look pretty real but it was fake) onto the shelf in the coatroom. Due to school policy, he was suspended for the rest of the day. The other two boys continued to gush about their stuffed animals. It was pretty great.

I think that's all of my good stories for now...

Today was evening number one of second trimester conferences. I was supposed to be at work until 8. Around 4:10, the fire alarm went off and we were all ushered outside. After waiting around outside for about fifteen minutes, we were allowed back in (by the awfully cute firefighters by the way!). At 4:45 the fire alarm went off again, we were ushered outside AGAIN. This time, at least, we had a gorgeous setting sun to watch as we stood outside in the cold for about a half hour. When they finally let us back in (and I could get on with the conference I had to start standing in the road), the principal came over the intercom and told us we were all required to leave the school IMMEDIATELY and go home -- something about the fire box or something? Soooooo, it is about 8:00 and I am nicely fed, curled up in sweats, snuggled into bed blogging, and I should just now be leaving school. Ahhhh, nice!!! I know I'll have to make those missed conferences up next week, but for now, I feel like a giddy little kid who has just been given a surprise snow day. Pretty great if you ask me!

This job is hard sometimes...

Not teaching.

Being a wife.

Specifically, being the wife of a crazy endurance athlete.

I stole this picture from Doug. I love it.

Chris is rocking the Arrowhead today. I'm so proud of him. But I miss having that grand blue dot to follow and stalk relentlessly. Chris chose not to take the SPOT for this race, knowing that the Ultrasport does not allow it (dah, do those guys have wives??? Yes, yes, I know, the organizer is lucky enough to have a wife that also rides it with him!). Anyway, I am remember why exactly I paid good money for that sucker a few Christmases ago! It is like being extremely invested in a football team that is playing in the Superbowl -- that lasts two days -- and you can't find out how it went until it is over. Painful!

Luckily Chris knows that I am a crazy person when I can't be there to cheer him on in person and he managed to squeak in a call from the checkpoint that is midway on the course. He was sounding good, albeit tired and a little ticked that his ankle was so sore. When I told him "you sound good!" he replied with "yeah, I'm trying!" Haha. Thanks honey! After the checkpoint there are supposedly hills-galore and he knew that with the singlespeed he'd end up hiking quite a bit. But he never mentioned quitting -- just a potential nap out in the -15 degree weather. Mmm, sounds lovely!

The hardest part about being an enduro-nut-wifey is not crying back into the phone "it's cold, come home, let me take care of you, I'll feed you your favorite food..." or "I'm sick, come home, take care of me, and make me my favorite food..." Instead I muster a smile, tell him he's kicking butt, and to get back out there and enjoy the views.

Sometimes that statement comes more easily than others, and since this is Chris's first endurance snowbike race (and mine being mental support), it is really hard saying that when you know you're encouraging him to go out into the wilderness in freaking freezing temperatures.

At least he can never I say I didn't fake it for his own good!

(P.S: Happy Groundhog's Day tomorrow... or as one of my Kinders called it today "Hound dog's gay" -- totally obliviously -- haha)

Way to stop blogging there...

Yes, I've dropped off the radar.

Oh well.

My good blogging comes from an extended internal conversation with myself which ultimately gets written down and called a blog.

I haven't had any good conversations with myself lately. Other things have taken up that space.

But that's not a bad thing.

Today, however, I took Turbo for a nice long walk and I caught up with me. It was nice.

My main thought? Honestly? I might be wishing part of my life away, but when the heck is Spring going to get here? I am SO ready for warmer weather and that fresh, new feeling that comes with the season. I am ready to be able to step out the door and not get chilled to the bone. I am ready to spend a long weekend in Moab, soaking up the red rocks, sand, and sun. I am ready to see the mountains as a haven rather than full of life-threatening avalanches (yes, I am far more traumatized and emotionally wrecked from the avalanche than Chris is -- far, far, more so).

But, here we are starting February and I know we're in for a long haul before I get that fresh, warm weather. I also know that soon enough it'll be summer and I will be seriously complaining about being so hot. I'm a spring/fall kind of girl. I don't care for the extremes.

While Chris has been busy building up his new FatBike (and wow, what a great bike!), training and packing and obsessing about the Arrowhead (which starts tomorrow am) and the UltraSport (end of Feb), I have kept myself plenty busy. This class of Kindergarteners is keeping me busy and wearing me out. They are great. I can't complain about this class, but they are still five. Some days are better than others. I have also started back up being a full-time grad student this semester as well. Luckily for me (and all of those around me), this semester promises to be FAR easier than last semester. There are only so many ways that you can analyze the diversity in your classroom... This semester, however, I am taking a linguistics class (surprisingly fun!) and a psychology hybrid online/a saturday a month class. No offense to psych majors, but my bs skills really come in handy here!

I've done a wee bit of riding. More on the trainer than outside (note my wussiness about the weather). I have done a wee bit more gym climbing. Just enough exercise, I think, to not feel like a total winter blob, but just little enough to feel pretty lazy. It works though.

February doesn't promise to hold much more blogging for me, although I'm going to try -- if there is something blogworthy of course. If you still actually check back here though now and then, stick around for March. I promise it'll be worth your patience.

G'night!

(Oh right, if you want to follow along with Chris on the Arrowhead 135 race tomorrow, here's the link to the blog where race updates should be posted. A brand new single speed snowbike and an ankle that is only four months post crushing and really only 80% better (in my opinion), should make for quite the interesting race for him. He's stoked and excited. I like that. Good luck hubby!)