Do you untag ugly photos?

I ran a 5k yesterday (yay for me and my two girls who did it too!).

As I sprinted to the finish line, I knew the look on my face was one of sweaty determination. But as soon as I saw my husband (and his camera), I put on a happy face---both to high-five my little guy and because the camera was there.

But then last night, my good friend Shannon posted this photo of me on Facebook and quipped, "Christina coming in for the finish. Are you going to remove this picture Christina?"

She had a point---NOT a great shot of me. I'm soaked, from the water I dumped on my head, the hose young girls pointed at us as we ran past, and sweat. I look every bit the 10+ pounds heavier than I should be. And, my expression is not flattering.

I was tempted to untag but I haven't yet, and Shannon later said it best: "It's a "real" picture...I like it!"

Like my decision to (sometimes) don a bikini even when my body isn't at its best, I'm trying to be ok with how I look at this moment. Even when this moment is sweaty, tired and not camera-ready.

(though, this photo of me disco dancing instead of stretching? It's a keeper, a ridiculous keeper)

Head shot

Here you go. . .me in all my unwashed, no makeup, beach-head glory:

So, here is where you come in: Should I keep the color (gray and all!), change the color (blonde, red?), keep the length, or OMG please grow your hair!

And just in case you are wondering, that is an oyster shooter. Yes, I eat disgusting things.

Fine dining is disgusting

We just returned from a long, multi-course dinner without the kids (yay for vacationing near a babysitting aunt!).

The kids wanted to know exactly what I ate as soon as I got home and was tucking them into bed.

And that is when I realized that there are many foods that sound pretty disgusting if you have to explain what they really are.

"Well. . .I had oysters, with sour cream and caviar on them."

"WAIT! What is caviar?"

"Um, fish eggs. They were red and black!", trying to sound cheerful.

"BLURGH!!!! You ate FISH EGGS?!?" Their eyes widened in shock and awe.

"Well, yes, but they were on the oysters. Which were raw and I slurped them down off the shell."

"WHAT?!?" (looks of disgust all around) "OK, what else."

"Well, I tried Uncle Ray's escargot. It was really yummy. And chewy."

"What is THAT?"

"Um, escargot is snail."

(imagine the reaction)

Next time, I'm telling them I got the pasta.

The kids are all right

Life is too short for a tankini

I am 43 years old, almost 44, and at the heaviest non-pregnancy (and "non-Freshman 15") weight of my life. I've nursed three babies, had one c-section and my legs have little blue veins all over the back of them, like a road map.

And today I wore a bikini. Yesterday too.

Listen, I know I'm not stopping traffic or making heads turn when I chase the kids down the beach. But I also know the only retching sound I hear is in my head and I'm determined to shut it the hell up.

no retching please

I've always envied women who wear a two-piece proudly even with their less-than-perfect bodies. I've also envied those women with the perfect body. But after four decades, I've also come to realize that I will never have a "perfect body". Even at my thinnest and most fit, I could find fault with my physique, always covering up my midsection because it "wasn't flat enough" or my thighs were not "thin enough".

I remember reading in a book once that "no one thinks about your body as much as you do." And so far, no one has pulled their kids out of the pool or off the beach, the world hasn't ended, and I haven't even been heckled for daring to wear a bikini in public.

Here's one little step toward being happy with the shape I am right now.

(and forgive me for still being too chicken to show a full-body shot; I'm working on being ok with that)

Don't hate me because it's beautiful

I wasn't sure I wanted to travel in May. Spring can be so beautiful, and fleeting, in New England, and I didn't really want to miss any of the loveliness of our world turning green and floral and sunny.

But, then after days of rain and bleak and blah, I was ready to go.

And here we are. Don't hate us, but it really is as beautiful as this. And I haven't even shown you pictures of our crazy view, the beach, or the biker and tiki bars we've discovered. Those will come.

Homeland security

We're leaving on a trip soon, and I've put the children in charge of packing their own carry-on backpacks with toys, books and craft projects that will keep them occupied on the plane or in the airport.

Before I sent them off to start packing, I gave a little speech about not packing anything liquid, like lotion (my middle would be sure to pack hand cream), or sharp (my oldest is bound to grab her nail clippers at the last minute and toss them into her bag).

It's a good thing I've decided to also go through their bags to make sure they don't bring, say, every stuffed animal, but nothing to read. Because, while glancing at my son D's bag, I noticed he had packed rocks.

Pretty heavy rocks that would cover the palm of his little hand.

I was just about to call him over and tell him that rocks really aren't a great thing to have to carry through an airport when I realized what the rocks were in: His homemade catapult.

Let's all spend a moment to consider how airport security would have treated finding a homemade catapult filled with rocks in it (for easy firing!) when they came upon it.

I think we all know whose bag I will be packing on my own now.

Gray Days

I've been coloring my hair for at least 20 years, probably more.

There are no tattoos or piercings on this body, but I've regularly changed the color of my hair, sometimes long enough to think of myself as a "blond" or a "redhead", but nothing sticks forever. I have proof here in this series of posts (finale here!) that show my crazy hair transformations.

But lately, I've been itching to see what my hair color really is, and with my hair now all of two inches in length, it hasn't taken me too long to get my natural hair color to take over, like weeds in an abandoned lawn.

Trouble is, these weeds aren't quite the same anymore.

At today's hair cut, my hairdresser said, as kindly as possible, "I think you wear blond well."

I made note of this, with a slight twinge since I am most definitely NOT blond right now.

And then this: "Plus, the blond would cover all the gray you have."

Wha, wha, what?!?!?

Oh, yes, while I've been happily keeping my hair chemical-free, they've been going gray in large patches throughout my very-short hair.

So, how soon do you think I'll be blond again? Or should I just embrace (cough) my advancing age (cough) and be happy (and chemical free)?

Mother's Day: With or without the kids?

What camp are you in?

Are you among the moms who want to spend Mother's Day surrounded by their kids, basking in their undivided attention?

Or are you one of those who take their Mother's Day "get out of dodge" pass for some (or all) of the day? After breakfast in bed, of course.

Guess which group I'm in? (apparently, so is my sister who is coming to pick me up in a few minutes for a little shopping time sans enfants.)

No matter how you spend your day, Happy Mother's Day to you all!

So proud

Today, my son D had his first Occupation Therapy session after a month-long break---his teacher was on medical leave for the month of April. He was excited to see her, but I was feeling a little sheepish since we hadn't practiced his handwriting as much as I would've liked.

As we walked into the school where he has his weekly sessions, I mentally went over all the things he did this past month.

Apparently, so did he.

Because as she approached us with a wide smile and a hug for D, he pulled back and said, "Guess what I learned to do???"

And he put his hand under his armpit and began pumping up and down until the telltale "farting" noise came out.

My heart, it swells with pride.

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Thanks, honey!

Running in packs

I started running again a few weeks ago, but this time I'm not alone. I'm doing the "Couch to 5K" program with members of our homeschooling coop.

I never knew running could be so much fun.

It's different to run with a group or a buddy. I have a friend who has said this before, but I've never had the luxury of finding someone who wants to run at my pace or my (short) distance. But every Monday, a group of us run and walk (and sometimes shuffle) around the big church where we meet. Midweek, a smaller group often meets at the local playground to run as well.

Moms, some pushing strollers, and kids, from the wee four year olds (who sprint until they are out of breath---stop---and sprint again), to the tweens who either walk (too cool to get sweaty?) or fly by me with a grin as I huff and puff and blow nothing down.

And then this past Friday, I ran alone with Jilly, my eight year old. She is adorable to run with: Chatty, funny, determined. And though I was ever her mother ("Stay to the side of the road", " Watch out for those rocks"), I was also her running partner and it made me realize how quickly she is growing up, quite literally running away from me.

But I'll never be too far behind.

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Have you completed the Couch to 5K program? We're on Week 5, doing a 5K on Memorial Day!