In like a lion, out like a lamb.

 Here I am freezing at Martha's Vineyard. This was the race I wrote about in my last post that was awful and cold. About a mile or two before this, I grabbed a cup of water on the course and the top layer of it was frozen into ice. I still tried to drink it and ended up spilling water down my chest and legs. The water froze on my jacket and froze my zipper into place. It was so miserable; my next race is the Upton 15K in less than two weeks and I'm hoping the weather is more agreeable. After that, it's the Boston Marathon! I've been training hard and am really excited to run!

A few weeks ago Scott was getting a little sick of living in the city. He was suffering withdrawals from the outdoors and wanted to go camping, but I reminded him that it was still officially winter and in the 30s at night (that wouldn't stop him, but it stops me!). Another problem was that there are only a few campgrounds that are open this time of year. Thankfully, I found one that was open - but only for cabins! Perfect! The cabin was nice and big and had a pellet stove, so we stayed warm all night long. It was nice to not have to pack and unpack the tent and sleeping pads and such. We came up after work on a Friday night, so it was nice to get there and make a fire for s'mores instead of setting up the tent while the kids froze. Success. In the photo above, you can see Oliver hiding under the bunk bed in the morning. We played around the cabin, chucked stones into a nearby pond, played with sticks, went for a short hike, made pancakes on our camp stove, and then went for a longer hike. 

 We hiked through Breakheart Reservation. Bruce and Phoebe found a few grass snakes and used teamwork to chase one of them into Bruce's hands.

 Phoebe was quite proud of herself for carrying a snake around. She asked if I wanted to hold it and when I said no, she exclaimed, "You're just not brave enough."

 We snapped a photo for a couple hiking through and they offered to take our picture. Since we rarely get us all in one shot, here we are as awkward as ever. No selfie stick needed.

 This is Phoebe being Phoebe. She was changing in the locker room before taekwondo and ran into a door, smashing her glasses into her face. She got a gash to her eyebrow that was pretty deep, but she wanted to patch it up with band-aids so she wouldn't miss taekwondo class. I consulted with Dr. Dad and he concluded that a scar to the eyebrow was preferable to dealing with a grouchy girl about to get stitches.

This is my friend Aimee. She is one of my dearest friends here in Boston and she is moving back home to England next week after being here for almost a decade. I was assigned as her visiting teacher six years ago and she became one of my besties. Aimee has been like a mom to my kids, a wonderful teacher herself, a talented singer, an encyclopedia of children's rhymes. I have been lucky enough to be a part of her spiritual growth and journey, and I am so sad to see her go. I know the move will make her happy though, so I will just have to plan a trip across the pond soon.

Last week we had the missionaries over for dinner. It happened to be this elder's birthday, so I asked him what he wanted to eat. Pepperoni pizza and funfetti cake for his 20th birthday. Sometimes I forget that missionaries are still kids too. Yes, that's Oliver licking off the candles. At one point Phoebe and Oliver tried to lick each other's tongues during dinner. The kids really know how to step it up a notch when the missionaries come for dinner.

A Story About Bruce

Lately, Bruce wants to wear Scott's ties to church. He's too sophisticated for his clip-on ties now.
But these pictures have nothing to do with the story. I was not carrying my camera at the time; and even if I was, I still wouldn't have had an extra hand to take a picture. But if I did, I would have a picture of a metal box mounted to a wall next to a crusty urine-scented elevator. On the box is a "help" button - a little ironic here.

Bruce, Phoebe, and I ventured out to get a birthday present for Bruce's friend. We took the train and were planning on going to a bookstore. We got off the train, exited through the turnstiles, and strolled over to the elevator. Bruce pushed the "up" button on the elevator and then, almost like he were dancing, turned around and smacked his head on the help button box. His head hit the corner and Bruce buckled at the knees. His face was mangled with pain, and he was drawing that big long breath before letting out a long sob. There was blood coming out of the spot where he bumped his head. It wasn't gushing, but it was oozing.

The elevator came and the doors opened.

A man selling popcorn a few feet away grabbed a cold Mountain Dew out of his fridge and offered it for Bruce's head. I picked Bruce up and tried to hold the pop can to his head, but that made him freak out more. Thanks, I tell the guy. He lets me keep the bloody pop can.

I carry Bruce into the elevator while somehow also pushing Phoebe's stroller. We get up to street level and luckily, Bruce's primary care doctor is less than a block away from this train station. I walk, carrying a sobbing Bruce and pushing Phoebe. We cause quite a scene: some random guy tells me that Bruce's head is bleeding and everyone is looking at us.

We make it up to Bruce's doctor's office. I plop Bruce on the receptionist's desk and tell her we don't have an appointment, but that we'd like to see a doctor right away. A nurse comes out and pushes the stroller back into a patient room while we follow, telling our story along the way. She brings the doctor in.

Bruce is terrified that he is going to get a shot for some reason, so he starts sobbing harder. I tell Bruce to give me a big hug while the doctor cleans his head off with water. She cleans up his wound and says that normally she would put steri-strips on, but it would require shaving part of his head and he was already so traumatized that perhaps the best thing to do would be to just keep it clean for the next day or two and let it heal. She gives me a couple wads of gauze, a prescription for ice cream, and tells me not to shampoo his hair for awhile. Bruce is glad.

We get his ice cream and go sit outside to eat it. Bruce's head is oozing again, so I get out the gauze and clean up his wound while some curious - and probably grossed out - onlookers gawk. Bruce feels better, so we head to the bookstore to get the gift.

Bruce picked out an airplane, which he played with all the way home. We have yet to wrap it and actually take it to his friend. Before I wrap it, I'll be sure to clean the blood off.