There's a theme here, friends. See if you can figure it out...

8.) You cry at night when brushing your teeth because you are so tired. Holding your arm up is exhausting.

7.) Your plants died because you were too tired to water them. Every time you look at those dry, parched vines, you start sniffling. They deserved better.

6.) Facebook reminds you that there are people out there - normal, healthy, happy people you call "friends" - having fun without you. You well up when you realize you weren't even invited (mainly because they knew you'd say no). Everything has a price, eh?

5.) You wonder what you used to do before all of this training and honestly cannot remember. The lack of memory causes you to, yup, you guessed it. More tears.

4.) Looking at salted watermelon makes you cry because it's the only positive in your life right now. Watermelon is so beautiful yet so underappreciated.

3.) You allow your child to watch The Lego Movie not once, not twice, but three times in one day, mostly because you are too tired to get off the couch. Your failure as a parent makes you cry.

Everything is awesome...uh, nope. Not even close.

2.) You are too tired to wonder why you are doing this; you just do it. And the lack of contemplation makes you...wait for it...cry.

and the #1 sign you are having an ultramarathon training breakdown...

The first thing on your mind in the morning and the last thing before you go to bed is the number of miles you need to run - in the next day, next week, next month. And the number is so great and so overwhelming that you...yup...cry. But you signed up for this (hello, first world problems), so guess what? Stop crying and start running.   

                                               ******

I spent the weekend rehydrating and restocking our Kleenex supply. Between my knee pain (IT issues; nothing to get excited about) and the tears, I realized the idea of an ultra is much bigger than I ever anticipated. Am I in over my head? I have no idea. Watching "Desert Runners" on Saturday was exactly the boost I needed; if non-professional runners can do 250km races in some of the toughest conditions in the world, getting through the Red Rock loop (and beyond) without a breakdown is possible. As of tomorrow, we are 40 days out. Our freezer is stocked with lots and lots of ice and there is plenty of watermelon to go around. I can do this, right? 

8.) Your early morning runs make you de facto security for your neighborhood. Nope, nothing to see here, folks. Just a lot of birds chirping at 3:45am... 

7.) All the salted watermelon you can eat! Hydrating AND yummy.

6.) So many uses for ice you'd make Kristoff proud (after all, ice is his whole life). Ice baths, ice on various body parts, ice down your shirt, ice on your head...really, anything to keep cool.

5.) Speaking of ice...creative uses of your child's stuff animals! Here, Spotted Turtle offers a shell.

4.) You'll spend so much time laying on your floor (stretching, moaning, sleeping), you'll develop an in-depth knowledge of just how dirty your floors really are.

3.) Two words: SANDWICH RUNS!

Technically, it's a long(er) run squished around a shorter run, like a 20-miler on Saturday followed by 10 on Sunday. So far I've done a 14/7 and a 16/8. But - this is exciting - I just got the green light to "start experimenting" with nutrition during long runs and that means there will literally be sandwiches during the sandwich runs. Almond butter and jelly on white bread, anyone? Does it come with a pickle spear?

2.) Custom shirts! Because if you are training for an ultra, everyone needs to know about it.

1.) You'll get really skinny.

Just kidding. Any potential weight loss will be offset by your insane, insatiable hunger. Your grocery bill will just go through the roof because you'll be consuming the same amount of food a small country goes through in a month. Phrases like, "Just put the food in my mouth and no one gets hurt!" will fly out of your mouth when the marathon hunger hits.

Who wants more salted watermelon?

T-minus six weeks and two days until the ET Full Moon Ultra. I've already advised Brian to buy two 10-pound bags of ice for this weekend (I have a 20-miler Saturday morning) and my foam roller now occupies a special place in our living room (and my heart). Here's hoping my nerves and knees hold up.

Before I begin, I will admit: I did NOT want to go to Disneyland. Nope, not for me. Our dreadful experience at LEGOLAND (more like Lame-o Land) totally turned me off to amusement parks. I don't like festivals or street fairs either - anything that involves crowds, rides, and overprices bad food. Disneyland seemed like the mother ship for all of these things and I was very grumpy about the prospect. The only reason I consented was because Brian told me about his idea the same time he told Scotty (such a dirty move...). When your husband looks at your four-year old and asks, "Do YOU want to meet Darth Vader?" and the kid practically passes out from sheer excitement, you better put on your MomPants and get on board.   

So I spent the week before the trip whining at boot camp to anyone who would listen. First world problems, right? But through all of that grumbling, I got quite a bit of really good advice from those who have traversed this path before me. We decided to do Disneyland, not California Adventures, since we only had one day (and eight hours, at best). This required leaving at 4:30 in the morning from Vegas, arriving in Anaheim around 8:30, and then somehow getting to Santa Monica by 7pm to meet up with friends. Yikes.

The night before, I gave Scotty a heads up as to what we were planning, so he didn't freak out when we dragged him out of bed at the crack of dawn. I'm usually pretty good in the morning - this was the fourth time that week I was up at 3:45am or earlier - so Brian and I agreed I'd take the first leg of the journey while the boys slept. Only problem: Scotty was too keyed up to sleep that he chatted the entire four and a half hours of the drive.

This is going to be the longest day of my life...

Brian attempted to close his eyes several times but was constantly interrupted by a little voice from the backseat. "Dad. Dad...Dad! DAD! Do you think I'll see Darth Vader? Is it the real Darth Vader? Is that Disneyland? Over that mountain, is that Disneyland? Does Darth Vader live there? Is he real? When I see him, I'm going to pull off his mask! And then I'm going to kill him and then I'm going to call the police because he's a bad guy. [long pause] Are we there yet?"

This went on for four hours.

We made an impromptu stop at Brian's happiest place on earth first to clear our heads. Putting food in Scott's mouth momentarily prevented him talking as well.

Next: Disneyland or bust.

Our first stop was the Jedi Training Academy. I had heard that several kids are selected from the audience to become a Padawan - they get a robe and a light saber and everything. Darth Vader and some Stormtroopers show up half way through the show and the kids use their new skills to battle the Dark Side. (please excuse me if my Star Wars lingo is wrong...clearly I do not have the force (or knowledge)). I had heard good and bad things about this - one, from the parents who's children were selected, and then from the parents who's children were not. Ouch. Four is the youngest Padawan they'll take, so I knew we'd be up against 8- and 9-years olds who got it and could play the part.

So I made a sign. I was going to cover every base to give our quiet, easily-overwhelmed little Bear the best shot possible. 

We went to the first show at 10:30, mainly because in the event Scott was not chosen, I was planning to go to the 11:35, the 12:45, and the 2:25 show. We would wear them down in order to get our kid a robe. (determined much? This is coming from the woman who packed 96 oz of water and salt capsules for the day. We were going to stay hydrated AND healthy during our Disney adventure, so help me God!)

When the time came and the Jedi master started to pointing to children, Scott was standing toward the front, knock-kneed, silent, with his sign upside down. My heart sank. Other kids were in full-on costumes, jumping up and down waving their arms. Cheaters. Stupid eight year olds. How do you explain disappointment to a four-year old?

But then, maybe it was the sign, the shirt, or the silent prayers his mother was sending up, but the Bear got the okay. He glanced back at us fearfully (go kid go!) and then took off to get his robe. I then realized he hadn't gone potty since leaving Las Vegas seven hours ago and began praying he didn't pee his pants while on stage. I had spent so much time thinking about getting picked or not I never considered what would happen if he was picked. Whoops.

Oh, the prayers of a mother.

There was a bit of a struggle just getting the light saber to work. Then his robe fell off. Parents had been strongly cautioned to not help their children, so Brian and I sat there, fretting. Well, I fretted. Brian turned into Softball Dad and yelled what he believed to be helpful advice from 20 feet away. It was cute. Kind of.

In the end, the kid got it. He did not charge Darth Vader and kick him in the groin the I feared he would. He did not attempt to rip off his mask. Darth Maul also showed up and since he was about four feet from us, I can tell you - he looked scary. Like really scary. I wouldn't have wanted to deal with this guy, but Scotty charged at him like a little solider. He got a couple good licks in, too.

During the "graduation," I realized just how little Scotty is. He held his own in a very public way. Proud mom, am I.

I'll admit, I cried a little. Just tugs at your heart, you know? Damn Disney. It wasn't even noon and the park had already gotten to me. Just call me Queen Elsa...my frozen heart was starting to thaw.

Before the show, I had run over to get FastPasses for Star Tours. It worked perfectly - just as the show ended, around 11:15, we simply walked right up to Star Tours and jumped on a ship within 10 minutes. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

After that, it was on to Captain America at Innoventions. The line to meet him was considerably longer than what we expected, so I popped out again to get FastPasses to Autopia. While in line, Brian started chatting with a girl who informed him there are 54 different "movies" that Star Tours show, so each pass through the line is a different one. I had a feeling we would be revisiting Star Tours again...and again...and again...before the end of the day. (Motion sick, I was.)  

The best part about Captain America (aside from he's a total dream boat) was the employee that managed the line. Scott, still on a high from his Padawan experience, happily told her about his morning so far. "You're a Jedi?" she exclaimed in surprise. "Oh my goodness! Well, we need to let Captain America know this! He will be so pleased to meet a real Jedi master!" Scotty lit up again and I had to fight the urge to hug this woman. Gosh these people were good.

Captain America, as to be expected, appeared very excited to meet Scott and told him how proud of him he was. Scott told him all about his training and new title ("I didn't kill Darth Maul, I just injured him like, a lot. But he is not dead," Scotty told Captain Hottie seriously. Brian and I stifled our giggles). As we walked down the ramp, Scott turned to Brian and I and exclaimed, "Boy, was he nice!" in such a sincere, sweet voice that again we both burst into laughter. It was just so cute.

And with that, I finally submitted to the magic of Disney.

It is pretty awesome.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of Tomorrowland, FrontierLand, AdventureLand and New Orleans. Brian insisted on "It's a Small World" and I gave in, mainly because it was a true Disney staple. And again - there's a theme here, people! - it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The line was short, the water clear, and the unblinking eyes of the singing children less creepy than I expected.

What did I learn? These would be my tips going forward:

Fast Pass it!

This was our ticket to a great day. The more popular rides offer Fast Passes, so while we were in a shorter line, I would simply pop over to the other ride, grab the passes, and pop back into our line. This worked like a charm for Star Tours and Autopia. We debated whether or not to go on Indiana Jones, but the minimum height is 46". Scott is 44.5," and every park employee we talked to said they are very strict about height requirements. So we tabled Indy and decided to try it next year.

Snacks!

Despite the excessive water I brought, I totally forgot snacks in the car.  They allow you to bring food and next time, I would pack as much food as possible. That being said, I did not have a problem finding good food. Many people pointed out there multiple fruit carts around the park and the ice-cold purple grapes tasted heavenly as the temperature climbed. The $2.99 price tag was a little annoying, but beggars can't be choosers. And that giant dill pickle we scored outside of Jungle Cruise - I actually squealed. De-lish.

Stroller or no stroller...

Ultimately, we went stroller-less. Scott did tucker out in the afternoon, but it made for a good excuse to jump on the monorail and the Disney Railroad. No wait and lots of sitting. He perked up after splitting a soft pretzel with me, giving him plenty of energy for a third go on Star Tours...

Timing is Everything

Irvine schools were still in session on Friday and the park was not crowded at all in the morning. It started to pick up around 2pm, and then around 6pm, a huge wave of people entered. It was Grad Night at the park and suddenly we were surrounded by three million eighteen year olds, all making out and pawing each other. Ew. The crush of people was overwhelming, making me very happy we were preparing to leave.

Have a plan...and an app

Disney Line Waits (DL Wait) was crazy helpful - any time we considered a new ride, I would check my phone and find out what our expected wait time was. This was key for Jungle Cruise and Pirates of the Caribbean. We waited until each was less than 25 minutes before making the trek over. By 3pm, all of the rides were showing longer wait times -- which was a relief, considering we had front-loaded our favorite rides in the morning.

I had also mapped out which "Lands" we wanted to hit and which ones we could skip. Scott couldn't pick Donald Duck out of a line-up, so ToonTown was cut. He's also very anti-Princess ("If I see a princess, I'm going to smack her in the butt!" he happily stated at one point during the drive in) so we avoided all of that like the plague. 

I'm happy to report we hit all of our targeted rides easily which made the kid happy and Brian and I feel like we got our money's worth. We didn't leave until 7:45pm, making the drive from Anaheim to Santa Monica a breeze. No traffic and we were beach-side within thirty-five minutes. Score!

Best of all, we put Scotty to bed once we arrived at our hotel, and our friends came over to hang out in our room. When I looked at my watch and realized it was 1:45am, Brian and I high-fived, congratulating each other on our epic day. Twenty-two hours, two light sabers, multiple lands, one giant pickle and three Star Tours all made for one very, very happy little boy.

Overall, it was a truly magical day. I take it all back -- Disneyland really is the happiest place on earth. Just ask Scotty...once he wakes up.

Who's ready for summer?

This kid!

I can't look at that picture without cracking up. Scotty was in an impossibly good mood this morning, and yes, the photo in the frame was taken on the first day of school back in August. I wish I could claim there was some great "nine-month master plan" to the photos, but there wasn't. Just a silly outtake combined with a sillier boy. Put it all together and hopefully you smile, too.  

Summer...ah, summer. Summer means home with Mom, days spent at the pool, a trip to Indiana to see Grandma and Zigmund, and a Utah vacation involving dinosaur bones and hiking in Zion National Park. When you are four, life doesn't really get any better.

(okay, the hiking is really for me, but there will be snacks for everyone.)  

This year has been an incredible one, too. As a parent, I'm realizing all of the ages have their own benefits and limitations. For example, birth to about 8 months, benefit: no mobility (mostly). No talking back. No booty dances (more on this later). Limitations: no sleep, constant contact with bodily fluids, and life is spent mostly in a haze.

Year four, however...wow. It's been a good one. He morphed from chubby preschooler into a lean, tall boy. Still prefers chicky nugs and apples for lunch, but he did expand his culinary horizons enough to discover a love of chick peas, cantelope, and pepperoni. (I'm not so sure about that last one, but whatever).

Academically this year, we saw the advent of...

-- READING! Oh my gosh, how is this possible?  The first book he ever brought home, "The Color Green," literally made me cry. Not because it's a sweeping, epic piece of American literature, but because my child was experiencing the greatest gift you can give to a child - the joy of reading. Sure, we suffered through some duds ("I Can Do It!" and "Up and Down" were major disappointments), but watching him touch a word and then vocalize it...chills, man. Chills. He likes it AND he gets it.

-- WRITING! Well, kind of. He knows how to write though the penmanship is poor (...like his father.) He spent the year journaling and from September to now, I'm shocked by the changes. Scribbles from the fall blossomed into legible words and then sentences. His little brain just keeps growing. Of course, the majority of his writings include "I see a shakr" and "I see a fish." The May journal is my favorite - it first starts with a sea snake and then another. By the end of May, the sea snakes are fighting each other. Conflict, plot development, central themes...well done, little Bear. Perhaps I'm reading into it, but I'm his mom. I get to do that.  

-- SOCIALIZATION! I'm hesitant to write 'maturity' as potty words still drop out of his mouth the minute Mom isn't looking, but he's like a real boy now. He listens - even when we are not talking to him. (this could be very dangerous in the future). He repeats things, picks up on nuances, and has a sense of humor that is actually funny (most of the time). He likes to tell me about the other kids at school, particularly who tooted on the rug that day and who had to sit on the bench. He beams with pride when he does a good job and takes time-outs with grave humility. I think it's safe to make the call - the kid has a conscience. We can cross "serial killer" off the list of Things to Worry About.

In fact, we like Pre-K so much we decided to do it again! Seriously. And we are all okay with it.

It's that troubling "Summer Birthday and a Boy" dilemma so many parents face. There was a lot of back and forth discussions during the course of the year, and while he did fine on his Kindergarten readiness exam, we think another year of practice would benefit the little guy before we send him off into the great big world. He's the youngest in his class and just this weekend, we attended several classmates' SIX year old birthday parties. I was still on bed rest and eating my weight in Lucille's BBQ when those tykes were blowing out the candles on their first birthday cake. I know it's a controversial move (and am not opening the door for discussion...) but every family needs to make the best choice for them. And so, let's Pre-K-it up next year! I just hope we don't get the "I Can Do It" primer again. What a downer.

Some outtakes from our morning photo shoot on the porch:

And that friends, is why we are doing Pre-K again. What was I just saying about maturity?

Have a great summer!