Scenes from Saturday + Popcorn & Cookie Dough

I’m signed up for a duathlon in six weeks. I’m excited to have an actual live race to look forward to and structure some training. My self-motivation has been flagging in the last month. Too much dark basement. Too much treadmill.

One aspect of training that I’ve come to appreciate as I’ve gotten older, is mental toughness. Youth is fast but weak, I now tell myself.

I was listening to a conversation with performance psychologist Jim Loeher on the trainer this week. I was hoping for insight into how to get my legs to stop complaining and run better after a long bike ride. I did not expect parenting advice.

“What really mattered in a really significant way: the tone and content of the voice no one hears. I came to understand that the ultimate coach for all of us in life is that private voice.”

Where does that voice come from? Mostly from parents.

Well…crap…as if we didn’t have enough pressure on us. For better or worse, I’m going to be in my girls’ heads for a long time. That’s both a comforting and sobering thought. Flashcards forever! But perhaps, I should ease up on the ABBA lyrics.


Portraits of a Mom. The calm before the Saturday storm. Folding laundry and listening to an audiobook at 6 a.m.

Dash summed up my feelings about running outside this morning. I appreciate that it is at least light out now but trying really hard to mix in some actual recovery days lately.

I know skipping out on running seems like an easy and maybe logical thing for most adults to do but it’s really hard for me. I feel like an underbaked loaf of bread on days I don’t do something even if I know resting is key to a well-balanced fitness routine.

Ce wants everyone to know she would have baked something if there were any ingredients in the house. She settled for working through a piece of banana bread from yesterday.

The piano is in the room where my desk also is and occasionally I need to keep working when the girls have lessons. It’s been interesting to listen the teacher give Ce feedback.

Technically, she is typically fine but now she’s old enough where the nuances and emotions come into playing a piece well. Ce’s very literal brain often struggles with this concept. My robot brain sympathizes.

Chatting with Grammie and putting those craft skills to work saving us money on birthday cards.

This trio of faces sums up the reaction to trying the edible cookie dough I’m sure you’ve seen in grocery stores lately. It’s… not offensive. (ed note: You end up with edible cookie dough in the cart when Michelle goes solo right before lunch.)

Google photos helpfully auto-created some albums based on analyzing my pictures this past week. The second largest album? Pictures from the transfer station. I’m perversely proud. Some day I’ll donate them to the historical society.

Oddly miss the days when both kids would scream through the car wash as if it were eating them alive. Sometimes the car is too quiet.

Wouldn’t be a weekend at our house with some form or dough or pizza being baked.

Ally’s… preferences for eating have no extended to vastly preferring the “puffy” (i.e., Sicilian) pizza to my NY-style. Sort of annoying but also pleased she has a strong pizza opinion.

Felt strange but we actually had something to do outside the house on a Saturday night. We headed over to a private movie screening for a birthday party.

While the restaurants and shops in the plaza seemed to be doing a decent business, the theater itself was still very empty. Which suited us fine.

The new Tom & Jerry tries hard to recapture the old antagonistic nostalgia of the pair and judging from the kid’s reaction it works fine if you are under ten.

I wish they’d actually used more Tom and Jerry and a little more anarchy. Or maybe stretching a typical 7-minute short into a two hour movie isn’t the best idea. The bell hop character was funny.

It was late by the time we made it back home. Ally was so tired she “just had to sit down” while she brushed her teeth.

If she were animated like the movie, you’d see the sugar energy draining from her body.

I wonder what voices they hear when they’re asleep?

MIKE'S WINDOW