Since starting my blog about 18 months ago at the encouragement of a friend, my life has taken a complete turn. I was a vegetarian mom, working from home with kids in daycare. My posts were mostly about my kids, but with some of my other interests being thrown in for balance such as cooking, photography and pretty things (I’m a designer so shiny objects get my attention).

But last year I started to run, at the encouragement of that same friend. After only a few short months of training, I ran a half marathon, then another, and then ran the Warrior Dash (a 5k with a dozen obstacle course challenges along the way, during 90+ degree temps). But since then, I have only run a handful of times. Why? Because I also have Chronic Lyme Disease and have experienced one of my worst flair-ups in years. That led me to book an appointment with a specialist, but there is a 4-month wait before I can get in to see him. Meanwhile, I started looking into other ways to curb my symptoms and get a little relief.

I found a lot of information about how diet can affect people with auto-immunne diseases and can trigger the inflammation that causes joint and muscle pain. Most have the same conclusion: gluten, dairy and sugar are all bad. Nightshade vegetables (potatoes, tomatoes, peppers and eggplant) can also be a problem. For a vegetarian, that didn’t bode well. I’ve basically turned my diet upside down and have taken on eating a Paleo Diet (aka Primal, Caveman or Grok diet). No pasta? No rice, beans or legumes? Meat…lots of meat? Yep. That’s what I eat now. Along with fruits and veggies, which I loved anyway. But also no yogurt and granola, no cheese, no hummus, no falafel or any of the other foods I’ve eaten as breakfast and snacks for the last 20 years.

Oh, and as for the kids, well, I now homeschool my older son for Kindergarten. His brother is still in Pre-K at daycare, but begs to stay home for school every day so most weeks, he stays and does school with us one or two days. We’re having fun, learning a lot, and growing closer from spending more time together and getting to know each other in a completely different way.

I’m still decaf. That seems to be the onlything that has stayed the same! So moving forward, my posts will have a different purpose from what I’ve done before. I’m now going to chronicle our homeschooling life and the challenges/rewards it brings. I’m also going to chronicle Lyme Disease and how it has affected my entire adult life, and I’m going to post what I’m learning about the Paleo way of life and recipes that my family enjoys as a way to share our experiences with others who are trying to make the switch.

Health and family. Those are the two keys to happiness in my book, so if you’ve read my blog before, I hope you’ll stick with me and enjoy the new direction of my posts. And if you’re here for the first time, I hope that what I’ll be writing about in the future can give you some inspiration, too, and maybe bring a little joy to your life as well.

Geography isn’t my friend.

After agonizing for weeks over which school to send my beasts to, we finally decided to apply to the French Academy for immersion learning. I was in love. Amour. But one week after sending in the application, it was returned to me with a note that we aren’t in the school district. WHAT?! Turns out we are ONE BLOCK south of the wonky, randomly-move-from-street-to-street district dividing line. One measly block. I can throw a rock from my house into the school district but I can’t send my child there.

So…back to the agonizing. But only for a few days. I really had liked the idea of homeschooling, so that’s what we have decided to do.

I work from home, so it’s really just a matter of working out the schedule.

1. Wake up early, do some work before the beasts awaken from their slumber.
2. Get the beasts fed, dressed, and take Little A to Pre-K at his daycare.
3. Bring Big A back and do an hour of school work, reading books together, practicing writing, doing math games, and other “studious” things.
4. Check emails and do a little work while Big A does an online language lesson (yes, I’m still determined to have him learn a second language as early as possible).
5. More “school” in the kitchen while we make lunch together.
6. Some quiet reading, coloring, or playing for a while as long as he still needs a nap/break/down time in the afternoon.
7. A couple of times each week, I’d like to get him into a co-op music class or let him have an outside activity like horse riding lessons, or karate or swimming lessons. (He really wants those, too.) I will have time to get more work done during those, as well.
8. Then more play time or time for art before getting Little A at daycare.
9. I can multi-task and get more work done while I make supper (I do this all the time), and can do some writing or email work again after the beasts are in bed.

It makes for really long days, but it seems really manageable to me. Instead of sitting at a desk for hours on end, both of us get to break our days into shorter snippets of activity. That helps me with boredom with work and it should help him learn to adapt to both group learning and doing work on his own.

Plus, we get to break up the week by fitting school into other activities like housework, shopping, or tending our new garden. Everything is an opportunity to learn. And I can’t forget field trips to the zoo, museum, parks and anything else I can think of to go along with a lesson plan.

I work on websites, so my work week is a 7-day constant churn. It helps that I don’t need to squeeze 40 hours into 5 days. I get to break up my time, too, so we have the ultimate in flexibility. I can’t wait. Big A can’t wait, either. He has already asked to start doing homework, so we’ve prepped his work space and have some activity books that’s he’s working through now. It might actually end up hard to hold him back. And that’s exactly what I wanted in a school…a setting that encourages him to learn and has him genuinely excited about his future.

Wish us luck!

In my quest to become a runner, I’ve also become a racer. Of course, the half marathon my friend recruited me for was the reason I started running in the first place. But I’ve completed two races now and have signed up for one more (and am trying to get the courage to do another half marathon in three weeks!).

First up was the Diva Dash. It was a 5k held on March 5th. It was four weeks before the half marathon and I signed up to get a taste of what race day nerves, starting lines and running in packs would feel like before the big day. Oh, and it was cold. Really, really cold. As in 28 degrees with snow flurries cold.

I was so excited the night before. I went to pick up my packet — my very first race packet!!! — and couldn’t stop smiling the entire time I was there. Everyone else was so nonchalant about it, but I was giddy. I put the chip on my shoes and set out my bib so I would be ready in the morning.

The Doc took the wee beasts to breakfast next to the start/finish line so they would be there to cheer me on. He said I looked terrified standing at the start, but I was really just frustrated with my running app because the GPS couldn’t find me. And I was alone in a pack of women who were all there with friends.

I actually had fun running the race, and since I was by myself, I played a game of “catch” by picking one person in front of me to catch up with, and when I was even with her, I’d pick another one to catch. I felt pretty good until the last half mile, which was up a huge hill. UGH. I’m not a fan.

I was slowing down until a mom and her 8-year-old daughter came into view. The mom was encouraging her daughter to keep going and I used that as motivation to go, too. If an 8-year-old can get through a freezing 3 miles, there was no way I was going to give up!

I finished in 36:30. (Ignore the time in the pic…I’m going by the chip time!) That’s an 11:45/mile pace. Better than I had expected. I just wanted to beat 12:30 because that’s what I needed in the half marathon.

So what did I learn during my trial run? First, that I really can be a runner! Second, that I won’t finish last. Third, that I needed to ditch the “serious runner” look at the finish line and go for a gloriously happy smile-from-ear-to-ear look for my big race.

One month later, the big day had arrived: Saturday, April 2, 2011. The Rock the Parkway Half Marathon was on. I hadn’t run in a week because of severe ankle pain. Luckily, though, I’m married to The Doc. He fixed me up with tape so I looked like a super hero.

It was cold again, though, so I didn’t get to show off my fancy tape because I needed tights to stay warm. My friend, Sherri, came over and we walked down to the starting line.

The race was awesome! Awesome. We started strong and had a few tough spots on the hills. A little GU, a little water and Gatorade, and we kept going. And going. And going. And going…

Now I get to sound all running-geeky and throw out a term I didn’t even know a few months ago: I ran the race with a negative split! Woo hoo! I flew the last two miles. Now, I had only completed two long runs of 8 miles before the race, so I had no idea how those additional five miles would feel. But they were great. I had energy. My legs felt solid and strong. And for those last two miles, I ran all out.

The Doc took my two wee beasts and Sherri’s angel to the finish line to wait. The boys had on shirts that said things like “My Mom runs fast” and “Go, Mommy, Go!”

And here I come. I’m smiling big. I’ve been practicing this Photo Op Smile for the last half mile.

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

I’m crossing the finish line at 2:43:14.

What? You don’t see me? Yes, well, that’s because at the precise moment I was finishing the race, my beasts (we call them that for a reason) decided they wanted to run off and play. The Doc had a decision to make: Be a good hubby and get my photo or be a good daddy and get my kids. I guess he made the right choice.

He did make it back in time to get a few pics of me when they handed me a finishers medal.

So there is at least some evidence that I did indeed run the race!

And finally my super support team came over to give me hugs and kisses and tell me how huge my medal was. (And it is a huge medal!)

So next up? I didn’t run much the next few weeks because my ankle really hurt. I’m dreaming of the Hospital Hill half marathon on June 4th, but it’s hills and I haven’t been training as much as I should have been. We’ll see…

I am signed up for the Warrior Dash in July. If you haven’t heard of it, follow the link. I am so excited to get to do it. I’ve even started lifting weights again to get some musk-les on my muscleless frame so I can survive it. After getting my big honkin’ medal, I’m in need of a lovely Viking hat to wear with it!

What races do you run each year? What have you run so far and what’s yet to come on your schedule?

If you look back at my “fitness” category of posts, you’ll find three that date before today. Three. And one of those was about starting the C25K program. That was way back on May 27th.

If you’re familiar with the C25K plan, it’s a schedule of walk/run days that progress to only running over the course of nine weeks.

Today’s date? Not nine weeks later.

What happened back in May was that I started running right when temperatures started to go into the triple digits. Not the optimal conditions for a non-conditioned person to make a foray into the world of outdoor fitness.

So my dreams of being a runner were put on hold. Again.

Fast forward to early October. That’s when my friend said she wanted to run a half marathon and needed a volunteer to run with her. Aha! Motivation. A tangible goal and deadline. Those are just what I needed to get my rhombus-butt back in gear.

I dug out my C25K podcasts, threw on my running shoes, and headed out the door. I had a lingering cough from a cold that I couldn’t seem to kick, but I was determined to run. My breathing was labored. My chest burned. Very, very badly. But I made it around the neighborhood following the plan.

Then a couple of days later, I couldn’t take a breath without feeling a sharp, stabbing pain in my chest. I started joking that I might have pneumonia. A trip to the doctor and a set of x-rays later, it was confirmed: pneumonia AND pleurisy. Running was on hold again.

Two months and a few different antibiotics later, I was stepping into my running shoes again.

December 5, 2010 is the day I finally started running on a regular basis. Since I’ve managed to stick to it this time, it’s the day I can look back on as the day I became a runner.

I’ve run a lot in the past three months. At first, I was so excited by my progress that I was actually adding in extra running days and was on a fast track to overtraining and running myself down. So I scaled back and completed the C25K program as planned. I’ve since started on an accelerated program to get in shape for the half marathon.

Last weekend, I ran SIX MILES. From not being able to run 30 seconds to running six miles in three months.

I am a runner.

No. More than that…

I AM A RUNNER!!!

After all of my research into various schools — you can read about my dilemma here — I submitted an application today for Academy Lafayette. We won’t know until March whether or not Big A gets in, but at least we’re officially on the list.

Kindergarten. It happens so fast. I remember the day my baby was born.

I remember the day I peed on the stick and saw the two stripes develop on it. (I’ll spare you the photo of that…but I do have it. Not a photo of the peeing part. A photo of the stick!)

I remember the day The Doc and I decided we wanted to officially start “trying” for a baby. And now that baby is on the list for a kindergarten!

I still really would like to homeschool, but I think having the chance to learn another language from such a young age gives kids a real advantage in brain development and the ability to grasp new ideas and concepts as they grow older.

So now we wait. And hopefully soon I’ll need to start taking French lessons.

La sauvegarde de mes doigts a passé!

Big A has a wife.

Or rather, he has a girlfriend whom will someday be his wife.

Or rather, he has a couple of girlfriend who will someday be his wife and the wives of a few other boys.

These are the things that five-year-olds discuss and plan.

I really thought that the boyfriend/girlfriend husband/wife discussions would come a bit later. After all, isn’t there supposed to a “cooty” phase in there somewhere?!

His main squeeze is an adorable redhead. They share a birthday and last Thursday their birthday fell on the night of the daycare Christmas program. After all of the classes had a turn at singing their songs, the director asked Big A and his Lady to the front of the stage. She announced that it was their birthday and asked the entire audience to sing “Happy Birthday” to them.

It was adorable!

After the show, they walked around together for a while. Here’s the lovely couple. (And notice the cookie crumbs and sprinkles on Big A’s lips…I swear he is Pig Pen when he eats!)

Don’t they make a sweet pair? Notice her bouquet. I think we could start planning the ceremony now.

“Da da da daaaaaa, da da da daaaaaa…”

Togetherness, bathroom style.

I think that’s all that needs to be said.

In fact, I’m not really sure I could say anything because I’m a bit speechless at this amount of brotherly love.

We have a rat. I don’t know if it’s a He-Rat or a She-Rat, but it’s a rat and that’s all I care about.

This is what the rat in our garage looks like...not that I could get it to slow down long enough to pose.

Ratty (as my wee beasts have dubbed it) is living in our garage. The house we live in has settled over the years, and the garage doors don’t sit perfectly flat on the ground. That leaves the tiniest of gaps for all forms of small woodland creatures to enter through. Our dog and cat food bins are (conveniently for small woodland creatures) right next to this gap. As is the trash bin and recycling bin. I’m sure it’s a virtual heaven for small woodland creatures.

Going into the garage, we have had chipmunks streak by and run out of the gap to get back to their homes. This I don’t mind so much. Hey, if we’re messy enough to leave a few dog kibbles on the ground after filling their bowls, it’s our fault that we’ve provided a nice dinner to small woodland creatures. It’s a bit like opening a drive-through window at Kibble Bell. They are up at all hours, hunting and foraging. They need the Fourth Meal more than I do.

But the nice thing about the chipmunks is that they have no interest in staying inside. They don’t view our garage as a motel or vacation condo. They come in. They go out. It’s a symbiotic relationship we have going with them.

But not so with Ratty.

It seems Ratty prefers an abode that is always dry, has enough local conveniences and isn’t highly trafficked. It’s like a rat version of a cul-de-sac in the ‘burbs. And Ratty has found that, despite what we see on the nightly news, the real estate market is good.

The problem is…Ratty scares my kids. He’s so nimble and quick that when we come and go through the garage during his roaming hours, he races inches in front of the Beasts’ feet and freaks them out. They have actually tried to go on strike and refused to walk through the garage. If we open the garage doors, they both want to be carried through so Ratty can’t get them. And combined, they weigh roughly 75% of me, so carrying them isn’t much of an option.

We decided last weekend to move Ratty out. We opened both garage doors and started moving some of our (still unpacked after moving here 18 months ago) boxes into the driveway. Sure enough, Ratty didn’t appreciate the racket and made a move. S/he darted this way and that way. Shrieking occurred, but I won’t divulge whether it was the Beasts or The Doc that did most of the shrieking. We had Ratty cornered and were trying to coordinate getting Ratty in a box when…WHOOSH! Ratty twisted and squirmed just enough to race around the corner and around the house.

Ok, s/he’ll find a nice home outside in the bushes now that s/he knows we’ve sent an eviction notice.

Not so much. I guess that a nice house on a cul-de-sac is the kind of real estate that rats don’t give up on so easily. So just a couple of days later, Ratty was seen streaking through the garage again.

Now we’re onto traps. The giant spring-action snapping kind. The kind that really, really, REALLY hurt when they snap you as you try to learn how to set them for the first time. Not that I’m admitting anything like that happened.

I’m a bit torn because I really don’t want to kill Ratty. I’d rather catch Ratty and take him/her to a nice wooded area near a creek. But the only things I saw at the hardware store were poisons and glue traps, which cause slow horribly painful deaths, or the new fancy white “humane” traps which enclose the rat but give you no way to open them. Which means it’s nice and clean for you, but the rat has no way out and will slowly starve. Again, not so nice. If Ratty has to go, I don’t want Ratty to suffer.

Which leads me to my other issue: How do I know for sure that Ratty is a WILD rat and not a domesticated one that someone released and s/he’s only hiding from us because s/he is so scared? I’ve looked all over the internet for pictures of wild rats, and they all seem to be solid dark gray or black. Ratty is not. Ratty is a splotchy mix of white and gray. I’m conflicted. I would hate for someone to hunt down and kill a pet of mine out of ignorance.

At least for the time being, Ratty seems to be doing his/her best to alleviate that concern by an amazing knack at NOT getting trapped. I’ve had traps baited and trapped for days with no success. The bait is either taken without setting off the trap, or the trap has been sprung but there’s no Ratty.

Ratty seems to be smarter than I am. And that, in and of itself, is almost enough to quash any issues I have with using a snap trap. I am evolved. I am higher on the food chain. I will outsmart this rat.

Everyone in our house was sick over the weekend. And the weather started to mellow out and get a little cooler so it was the perfect time for SOUP!

But I wasn’t interested in going out to the store in my flannel jammies to get a canned of overly salty, floppy-sad-stringy-noodled chicken soup. So looked in the freezer, fridge and pantry and decided I was going to whip up something from scratch.

This was the easiest soup to make and man was it good. Even The Doc said he was impressed by how it tasted. (He’s not much of a soup eater.) The Wee Beasts ate it up, veggies and all, so it must have been something special. Here’s the recipe:

Homemade Chicken Noodle Soup (To Cure a Cold)

2 stalks of celery diced (include some of the leaves!)

1 cup diced parsnips

1 cup pre-shredded carrots (or dice some big carrots)

3 green onions, finely diced (or 1/2 cup onion if you don’t have green onions)

4 cloves garlic minced

8-10 cups of chicken broth/stock

A few sprigs of thyme or 1/2 tsp dried thyme

2 bay leaves

About 1/3 tsp red pepper flakes (more if you like the heat and don’t have kidlet tastes to account for)

3 frozen chicken breasts

1 cup orzo pasta

Here’s how you throw it together:

Heat up a couple tablespoons of olive oil over medium high heat in a stock pot, then throw in the veggies minus the garlic. Sprinkle on a bit of salt to help the veggies sweat and release their juices. After 4-5 minutes, when the onion is getting translucent, add in the garlic. Stir it around and let it cook for about a minute to get some of the raw flavor off the garlic but don’t let it burn.

Then pour in all of the chicken broth or stock. If you don’t have 8-10 cups in the pantry, use what you have and make up the rest in plain water. You have enough going on with the veggies to end up with plenty of flavor. I threw in a few sprigs of thyme that I had, but you could use dried or any other herb of your choice. Rosemary would be good. Also add the bay leaves, sprinkle in the red pepper flakes, and you can grind some fresh black pepper in to boost the flavor profile a bit.

Bring the soup up to a low boil and slip the frozen chicken breasts into their hot bath. This basically poaches the chicken, leaving it completely cooked and super moist in about 20 minutes. After 20 minutes, take the chicken out and set it aside to cool for a few minutes. Meanwhile, add in the pasta. While it is cooking, shred or chop the chicken into bite-sized pieces and add it back to the soup pot.

Test the flavor of the broth and adjust with a little more salt or pepper if needed. Then get yourself a big bowl and ladle some of your soup in. Breathe in the steam and just feel yourself starting to get better. Ahhhhh, that’s why chicken soup is good for your soul and for your cold.

Are you feeling better yet? Everyone in our house did. Homemade chicken noodle soup. It’s a good thing.

Warning: Bad puns ahead.

We’ve been trying to get on board the potty train with Little A for a few months now.

As mentioned before, Big A was a potty training champ. One weekend and he was done.

Flush with a victory under our belt, The Doc and I thought Little A would get on board with things just as quickly and easily.

Woah. Were we ever wrong.

We’ve tried encouraging him with “big boy” underwear, offered treats, read potty stories together in the bathroom, followed a Pirate Potty adventure plan complete with a pirate hat and stickers for going “where X marks the spot,” and switching to pull-up pants in place of plain old diapers so he can pull his own pants up and down.

Nothing has worked.

He’s all for going pee in his potty chair. Sometimes. Other times, he’ll happily flash a smile and then tell you that he just peed in his pants and laugh. Stinker. Him, not the peed in diaper.

But speaking of stinking things, so far we’ve had zero luck with with our #2 child willingly making #2s in the potty.

We have almost run out of ideas. You could say we’ve been blocked up and needed something to get things moving again.

(I told you this would be full of bad puns. Don’t complain now.)

Here is our latest — and I dare say GREATEST — idea.

Dah dah dah…introducing the…

Potty Train!

(Hopefully it doesn’t take you the half hour it took The Doc to connect the dots. Potty Train. Potty. Train. Ing.)

Little A has been drooling over two new Thomas the Tank Engine characters in the store. So he now has a goal.

For each “deposit of coal” he leaves in the potty, he gets a Thomas sticker along his track. With each successful #2, he can pick a sticker for #1, #6 or #5. (That’s Thomas, Percy and James for those of you not in the Thomas-and-Friends-know.)

He has a sticker chart on the wall in the bathroom at home and a matching one at his daycare, so that we can “track” all of his business. I hope that he’s motivated enough to get the new trains that he decides going on the potty is worth the effort.

I’ll post updates and would like any back-up (ahem) ideas from you in case this doesn’t work. Chime in!