Whew. Has it been a week? Really? This week has been a bit like driving my car somewhere only to realize I'm not really sure how I arrived safely. Truly our lethal weapon of a life has been in the fast lane on cruise control while we're somewhere in the back enjoying the ride. Oh well. The wind feels good in our hair these days and we're together.
So I guess I should begin this week by saying there is absolutely no way I went an entire week without keeping up this crazy journal of a blog. Not me! The shame.
I also did not leave a lovey voicemail of gratitude for my hubby on a particularly cheerful Wednesday afternoon thanking him for our life only to find out later that he deleted it without even listening! I did not in the never-to-be-listened-to message praise him for the fact that his hard work allows me to lay barefoot in the sunshine in our beautiful backyard with three loves of my life and teach them how to enjoy a spring day. I did not gush about how everything we do is better when he's there. No, I did not marry a man that would delete a message like that only to say, "When I heard it was you and we had talked already, I deleted it. Why?" Ahem.
I did not get visibly shaken when my Wasatch Back team reassigned my three legs of 24-hour run to begin with a 7.1 mile uphill run on a dirt road over Avon Pass. Really?! Did I not just have a baby. Okay he's nine months old, but you can say you just had a baby until they're two, right? I am, after all, still nursing. Let's see you run up a dusty mountain carrying two gallons of milk. For the love. (Really, I'm just glad my great group of running buddies invited me back in the sandbox to play. I'll do it, I'll do it!)
Oh well, maybe if I really do not complain about sucking dirt for 7.1 miles while I try to find my stride and my breath I will win my old backside back from the universe! In all seriousness I'm not sure what happened to my body with baby number three, but nothing seems to be in the right place anymore. Of course, I would not question if this is part of what it means to be thirty something and would not secretly wonder if I should make a pact with the devil (or a good trainer) to fix it, replace it, or rearrange it. No, not me!
I also did not give birth to the most adorable kids ever. EVER. And I would most definitely not ask you to look at far too many pictures of them (again). (These are also not from McKay's 6 month, Ty's 6-year, and Preston's 4-year old photo shoot done three, yes three, months ago. I would definitely not be that late in getting them ready to share!) Nope! Not me.