Back in March, I knew that, at some point if we ever started getting what qualified as most-of-a-night's sleep, we'd be baptizing Babykins. I ordered his baptism outfit via jcpenney.com on April 19. It was supposed to be available within a week.

I've been the mom of a baby boy before, and I know that they grow when it's least expected. Lex shot from a 9-month to an 18-month size within days. Babykins currently wears 6-month clothing. It's April. No biggie. I ordered the romper big.

I got my notification of shipment on May 8, and it arrived a few days later. Problem was, by May 1st, his six month clothes no longer fit. Neither did the 12-month clothes. Anything less than twenty-four months made him look like an overstuffed sausage. So the size 18-months christening outfit needs to go back and has stood in front of my closet door, in its box, unopened, for the past six weeks.

It's just as well, really. I felt MGP (maternal guilt pangs) for having considered a store-boughten outfit. See, when Lex was six-months old, we were fortunate enough to go to Maui as a family. Before we left I looked up a Hawaiian fabric store on the Internet, but it sold only at its physical location. We drove there one morning at the beginning of a road adventure and I chose two yards of beautiful white-on-white printed cotton. When we got home, I bought a pattern and notions and got to work.

This is probably as good a time as any to address the query wafting through your head: "But Motormouth, I didn't know you sew." Truth is, I don't. Not really. Back in the late '90s, the nineteen-nineties that is, Stacia's mom taught me the basics and I did up a few little dresses and a full-length blue satin skirt. I got OK at it, but then didn't sew for years. So I can follow the directions pretty well but I'm no Lagerfeld.

Our local fabric store is going out of business so I got a cute print for Babykins' gown at 35% off. Then I went to the local Jo-Ann Store and bought a cute, EASY, no-frills pattern and some notions to match. Brought it all home, got the fabric washed on Monday and sat down that very evening to read the instructions.

"I figure that if I do a little each night, it'll be fine," I told Monstro. "The fabric is clean, tonight I'll read the instructions, tomorrow night I'll cut out the pattern and press everything, and that will leave Thursday, Friday, and Saturday to sew it. A little bit at a time."

I pulled out the directions with a flourish. "Oh, these are the Spanish ones." Yo no hablo. I moved on, pulling out the other packet of folded newsprint. "These are in English." But even before I unfolded it, I knew something was wrong. The line drawings didn't match the drawings on the front of the pattern's envelope. Come to notice, the pattern numbers don't match, either.

"+++dammit," I said, which is something that I NEVER say unless truly skeeved (my lexicon choice for "po'd beyond belief"). Monstro jerked his head around. "The instructions don't match the pattern," I told him. "These instructions are not for these outfits."

Bearing in mind that I am indefatigable, I decided to return to the Jo-Ann Store to pick up the matching instructions before gathering Lex from Tuesday preschool. No biggie. Plenty of time. I left the house at 3:20, got to the store around 3:40, had to have Lex in-hand by 4:15 but the store is near his school, which is why I'd planned it this way.

A nice lady coming out held the doors for me, which never seems to happen when I have the double stroller, but whatever. Welcome to Massachusetts.

There was a girl helping a party of three at the cutting table, so I walked over to where a woman was shelving buttons. I told her what I was up to. She said fine.

"I just didn't want you to think I was committing foul play," I explained, then went to the pattern file.

If you've never been to a fabric store, you need to know something: Fabric stores have filing cabinets that make law offices jealous. University admissions departments weep at the vastness of fabric-store file storage. They're also impeccably organized, with large tabs that proclaim each pattern's number, and a duckling line of patterns dutifully filed behind each such tab. Which, ultimately, makes it not at all difficult to ascertain at a moment's first glance that the pattern you want has sold out.

This moment's first glance set a pebble of despair into my stomach, but I shored up my indefatigability and went back to speak with Penny.

"Excuse me, but the pattern isn't there. What's next?"

Penny put down her buttons and came with me to the pattern area. She checked the patterns in front and in back of my desired number, and checked the pattern of the instructions I had to see if someone had put it back wrong after evaluating the two. Then we looked through the books and couldn't find anything else, at least, nothing that would look good in cotton print that I could also sew up in three days.

"I guess I'll just have to get my money back," I said.

"Yes, go up front and tell them... No, actually," she pulled her walkie-talkie from where it was clipped on her polo-shirt lapel, "I'll tell them."

It's a long walk from one end of this store to the other and yet, when I got to the cash register, there was nobody there. I didn't have my phone to tell me the time, and had left my wallet and everything saving my keys and the pattern in the car.

Clare (not her real name but she looked like a Clare so let's go with that) scanned the pattern, made it beep, and then clicked something to get to the next screen.

"Name?" Clare asked me.

I told her.

"Address?" she asked.

"Um, no, I don't think so," I said.

"I need your address."

"Why do you need my address?"

She clicked her tongue. "It's for, fraud purposes."

"Well, I'm not going to give you my address. Can you just skip it?"

She turned her head to talk into her walkie like a bird getting ready for sleep. "Can you come up here? I can't get the address info for a return-without-receipt."

Penny made the long walk to the front of the store and stood in the spot usually reserved for grocery baggers.

"I am not going to give out my address," I said.

"It's just for fraud purposes," Penny told me, as one tells a toddler not to do a headstand on the sofa.

"Well, we need to skip it."

"Can't. She," motions to Clare,"would get fired."

"Look," I said, slapping my palm on the counter. "It is not my choice to return this. The pattern is defective! It's not my fault!"

"Well, it's not our fault, either," Penny said. "It's the pattern company's fault."

At this point, I knew that logic or even actual thought would not get through to these women. So I gave them a fake address.

"Drivers license for verification?" Clare asked me.

"You have got to be KIDDING me! I don't have it. I have nothing with me but my keys and this pattern."

Clare looked at Penny. Penny looked at me.

"Skip it," Penny said.

Clare nodded and pushed the next key.

"Seven dollars and seventeen cents?" I yelled. "This pattern costs $11.95!"

"That's what the register says the pattern is worth," Clare said.

I grabbed the pattern envelope and all its contents from the countertop. "Forget it. FORGET IT!" I looked at the three ladies who had been at the cutting table when I entered and who looked now like they'd rather be anywhere but here. I strode toward the back of the store muttering at the near top of my voice.

"Sell me a DEFECTIVE product and then SCREW me out of FIFTY PERCENT of the COST." Oh, I was in rare form. When I reached the cutting table, two new women were there in their matching green polos. "Are you the manager?"

"I'm *a* manager," one woman said, which killed me.

"Listen." I stopped and put my right hand to my forehead. "I am up to here. I bought this pattern, it has the wrong instructions, and I'm given the third degree, and then I don't even get a full refund."

"Well, patterns are always 40-percent off, so it probably just rang up what you paid for it."

I left, pattern in hand. Eff them. By this time, I had four minutes to get to the preschool, which was no challenge at all, my right foot suffused with enough adrenalin to make it 90 pounds heavier than usual. I caught my breath, picked up Lex, who started to test me but then looked at my face and clammed up. I got him strapped in to his booster, started the car, and was driving down the road when I called Monstro.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me," I said. "I am afraid that I did not comport myself with decorum and grace today."

"What happened?"

I told him. "It's probably just as well that I left when I did because I'm pretty sure they were about to call security."

"They probably already had," he surmised. "Look, I yell at people all the time. It's good for them. Wakes them up from the ridiculousness inherent..." and so on and no-wonder-we're-in-a-recession, look-at-what-passes-for-customer-service, yet-another-reason-to-not-buy-American.

"I might feel a little bad if it turns out I did pay $7.17 for it," I said.

"Don't. They're not worth regretting," he said.

So it turns out that yeah, I did pay $7.17 for the thing, but it also turns out that the wrong instructions at least tell me how to pin and mark the pattern to the fabric, and it's only got four pieces, and I do have a Master of Fine Arts degree, so I can probably figure out how it goes together and Babykins will look resplendent, and then nobody will be there to see it because the baptism's the day after July 4th and our entire church and all our friends will be out of town.

At least I can rest easy in the assurance that God laughed his ass off at me today while Jesus just put His face in His hands and shook His head. But there's not a whole lot of reassurance in that, is there? Yeah, I don't think so either.

Our "Finding Nemo" DVD is... missing.

Oh, and I just totally lost my ess at a JoAnn's Fabrics store, but you're going to have to wait for that story.

Took Lex to preschool early this morning so I could hit the track before going to do a home visit with my mom and her cadre of physical therapists. Did some stretching and then started running. "I wonder if I could do six laps?" I thought to myself. Turns out, hell yes I can!

I didn't feel as strong at the end of this run as I did after my bike-path run the other day -- probably because I hadn't eaten breakfast -- but I could probably have run another two laps if I'd had the time/inclination. Soooo happy! Then I walked a lap to cool down. Shins felt pretty good throughout.

So, for those of you keeping score, that's a mile-and-a-half of running without stopping. Booyah!

P.S. Happy birthday El!

I was away all day on Saturday but I figure standing in line for 2 hours, and standing during an audition process for another 3 hours was worth something in the training log.

Yesterday, I went out while the boys were napping and Monstro was prepping for our new D&D campaign (whoo!). There's this stretch of trail that runs about 40 feet beneath a bridge on my street and I'd always wondered how one got there. Well, as it happens, yesterday I ran to it and back again. I walked some, but not much. It felt amazing. A truly wonderful run. And, I think I've figured out how to stop shin pain: when my legs were still hot after my run, I gently pressed down the front of my leg with the ball of my hand. Then I did it a little harder. In the shower, I used a downward motion with my thumbs, pressing down the front and side of my shin. This morning it's like I never ran at all. Great to have a new trick in my arsenal. And boy, it felt great to be running on the first sunny day of the summer. I figure the whole trip was around two miles. I sprinted across a wooden bridge, so fast that a bicyclist looked back to watch me.

On Saturday morning I drove to a mall 90 minutes away to attempt to qualify for the upcoming Boston "Wheel of Fortune" episode tapings. I was there all day but wasn't randomly called to go on stage. It strikes me now that when they had the "Event" puzzle on the board and I knew the answer *before they turned ANY letters* that I should have just called out "I'd like to solve the puzzle, please", but this didn't strike me until I was up with Babykins at 3:00 the next morning. Oh well. There is still a chance that my application will be chosen for the final audition, which will be held in Boston sometime in August -- with my luck, probably while I'm in California. Nevertheless, I solved a puzzle in line and won a TV-38 t-shirt, and signed myself and Monstro up for Spin I.D.s so I could get the talking Pat and Vanna minifigs, so I got some good swag. Also, I learned that WoF receives 1,000,000 applications from wannabe contestants every year!

Now I just need to figure out how to get the pictures off my phone.

Oh, and if you want to look skinny in a picture? Pose with a Winnebago. Works every time.

Think good thoughts for me today because if everything goes according to [my] plan then sometime in early September I'll be the one shouting, "C'mon, wheel! Big money!"

A really good run today. Pretty much the first time since I started this that I've been able to tweak my stride. I've been so busy trying to breathe the other times that I've mostly just plodded along. Today I did some tempo runs. The acoustic "Everlong" and FOTCs' "Hurt Feelings" helped a LOT. Thanks, fellas.

Michael Jackson is dead. I'm glad that most outlets seem to be focusing on his revolutionary-artist aspects rather than his sad-cum-twisted aspects. I mean, the man was an epoch.

Nobody is sadder about his death than my buddy Chris, who has spent the past three weeks at his job at a major Internet ticket outlet purchasing empty seats for what was to be MJ's London concert series, and who now has a whole lot of refunds to process.

Wow, this is truly neat-o: My recent Wallet Blog post about ENERGY STAR got quoted on the MSN Money "Smart Spending" blog. Booyah!

So while my mom's rehabbing her new knee, I'm taking care of her bills. And I had to call AT&T Wireless, because she lost her phone a year ago and we'd been paying the minimum until her contract ran out, because it was more economical that way. Well, I'd set up the lower payment plan for her last year, with no problem.

And yet now that I'm calling to potentially cancel her cell-phone account, they won't give me access. They say that I don't have the last four digits of her social security number. Well, it seems that somehow, that number has been changed from what it was last year.

Of course this couldn't have *anything* to do with the fact that 1) the lower rate has ended and they're back to sucking $26.33 out of her bank account every month, and 2) I spoke with the cancellation department.

And then, when I called her AT&T residential service, to get her credit balance of $10.66 sent to her in the form of a check, the automated attendant told me the office is closed and to call back between 7 a.m. and 8 p.m., Monday through Friday.

Yeah, a-holes. It's 10:56 a.m. right now.

So instead, I went to www.att.com, to get them to send me an email. Got to their "Contact Us" page and typed my subject line, but their /common/fsrscripts/attinvite.html was not found on this server, so the "Continue" button doesn't work.

I effing hate AT&T. Had forgotten how much until just now. If you want to improve the quality of your life, dump AT&T pronto. In fact, I'm pretty sure that Sean moved to New Zealand just to get away from AT&T. Not such a bad idea, buddy.

I haven't watched their show this season out of protest, but I did visit E! Online late last night to find out what their "surprise announcement" was. Splitsville. Divorcetown. It's too bad. But, based upon the wise words of my dad's wife, not surprising.

You see, shortly before Monstro and I were married, Donna shared with us her #1 tip for keeping a marriage together.

"Don't ever renew your vows," she told us. "Everyone I ever knew who renewed their vows got divorced shortly thereafter."

When Jon and Kate went to Hawaii last season and renewed their vows on their ninth wedding annviersary, a frisson of foreshadowing crept along my spine. I was hoping they'd beat Donna's odds.

No va, amigo.

So, let this be a lesson to you: don't renew your vows. Oh, and don't have a million kids and then have a TV show about it. And don't be an insufferable shrew or an irresponsible prick. All of the above will send you the way of Jon Minus Kate.

Yes, Jon and Kate are going to make an announcement on their show tomorrow night. We all know what it is. They're pregnant! Duh.

To my beloved Monstro, aka BEST DAD EVER, and all the other dads and dads-to-be out there, today and everyday, amen.

My shins hurt from my foolish run yesterday (ALWAYS stretch before running, doofus), so I walked *really fast* around the track five times. It hurt more than my mile-and-a-quarter run the other day. Maybe I'm still recovering.

It was raining like eff today, all day, but I wanted to run, so I stopped at the track on my way to get Lex and ran a fast 200, a slow 100, and a quick 100, all without stopping. Yeah, just once around the track, but at a speedy pace. Made my left shin hurt, at least. :)

Learn all about how ENERGY STAR can save you big bucks. You're welcome. :)

KeMa, don't be jealous (but thanks for the shout-out). I am taking a class. It started tonight. It's online, so for a change of pace, I'm sitting at my computer. The class is called "Get Funny," and it's offered through Greenfield Community College. I've wanted to take it for a while, but decided to wait until Babykins was waking up fewer than three times a night.

The first lesson was posted today -- a historical overview of humor writing. Good stuff. I have already completed my first assignment, because it was quiet in the house and I'm a dork. We were tasked with reading either Aristophanes (my comedy hero), Mark Twain, Oscar Wilde, Shakespeare's comedies, or the Norse or Icelandic Sagas. I read a bunch of Norse myths. You know what? They're funny! I wrote all about them with a spoiler warning on the class discussion board. You can read my little essay by clicking "more." (Don't want to bore the looky-loos.)   more »

What does PR stand for? Well, in this context, it stands for Personal Record. Maybe I should call it "PFR" so nobody gets confused by the fact that PR could also be Public Relations, which I also accomplish on a regular basis.

OK, anyway, about my P*F*R: Today I went to the track at another local college. Before I got there I was musing to myself that maybe I should try running five laps, all in a row, without stopping or walking. Prior to this, my record was four laps, aka one mile. And that was a few weeks ago, I think before my mom had her surgery.

So I got to the track, did my stretches, and started running and did not stop until a mile-and-a-quarter later.

Five laps! Let's see that in all caps: FIVE LAPS!!! That's more than one-twentysixth of a marathon, people. Another woman on the track cheered for me when I finished, and told me it was more than she could do.

(I was also inspired by Kris, who told me this morning that she's following my training log with great interest; I didn't even know that she lurks here. Thanks, Kris, for the boost. And for laughing at my proposed first line, should I ever do an open-mic stand-up comedy session. "Gleaning," indeed.)

It was fantastic. And I didn't even feel like I was going to die at the end of it -- in the middle of it, yeah, but I pushed through and kept running. Which is really what it's all about. Well, that and shin pain. I came home, chased down a couple of ibuprofen with a concoction of protein powder in milk, and took a loooong shower.

Just spent 30 minutes in my email inbox and brought it down from 1805 messages to 647. Whee!

This makes me sad.

On Sunday, Monstro and I took the boys to Hadley, to watch that town's parade commemorating its 350th birthday. I had the bright idea of parking on the other side of the river and walking over the Rail Trail to get to the parade. So we ended up walking somewhere between 2.6 and 2.9 miles that day, with the added bonus of the double stroller weighted down with 10 pounds of picnic supplies and 62 pounds of boys. Good times! And, the parade was loads of fun.

Today, I took Lex to school by way of the running track. "I want to go on that one," he piped from the backseat. So I parked by the track, we ran 300 yards, then ran to the preschool, and then I ran back to the track and ran 800 and walked 400. Then, this afternoon, Monstro and Babykins and I walked a little over a mile before it was time to pick up Lex from preschool. Not a bad day! Oh, and Babykins now has not one but TWO teeth. Good times.

After visiting my mom at the nursing home, I decided to shuck off my shoes and run barefoot up and down the grassy hill that's part of the facility's landscaping. I figured I'd run 10 figure-eights, up and down and up and down the hill, while Theo sat in his stroller laughing at me.

Well, that figure eight might as well have been an infinity symbol. I did it twice and chucked it in. That hill kicked my butt! Though it did feel good to run barefoot -- I could feel my ankles strengthening during the run.

So I re-activated my Facebook page this weekend, mostly so I could lock in the "motormouthdotcom" alias, and I agreed to "Friend" my best friend, who sent me a great message of Facebook do's-and-don'ts, and I asked two other people to be my friend and I think I'll hold steady with that. Updated my picture so it's chattering teeth, and then, right when I was getting ready to upload, you know, one or two other pics of the boys and whatnot, Facebook crashed my entire browser.

Eff you, Facebook.

Been busy and rainy so I fell off the exercise wagon, but yesterday I was back "on track," as it were...

ran 800 (with two 100-yard walking breaks)
walked 400
ran 800 (no stopping!)
walked 400

It was rough -- I've lost some of my breath the past week -- but ultimately, I felt a lot better!

My knee's been hurting -- possibly sympathy pains, as it's the same side as the knee my mom just had replaced -- so no new entries in the training log, but I'm about to get back on that horse. Today is the farmer's market where we pick up our farmshare -- can't wait to see what kinds of veggies we'll be noshing this week! Other than that, mostly work, kid-caregiving, and Mom-caregiving. Happy Tuesday!

My haircut can only be referred to as a fat-girl's style. Ugh. Time to break out the prenatal vitamins to see if I can get my hair to grow long, quick.

You may or may not know that I have quite the collection of etiquette books. Never hurts to know which fork to use, how to compose a note of condolence or regret, and the like. But here's an unfortunately NOT hypothetical situation I experienced today that had me at a complete loss: When your hairstylist is cutting your hair and, in the process, inadvertently cuts off the tip of her own finger, is it OK to walk away in the middle of the haircut? And, if you stay in the chair because she insists she's fine (even though she tells the other stylists she'll be going to the hospital shortly, and you can see the blood from underneath the three band-aids she used), and she finishes your haircut, and you don't like it, is it OK to say something? And what percentage tip should you leave to compensate for the, uh, tip *she* left?

(Yes, I stayed in the chair; no, I didn't say anything; yes, I left a $6 tip for a $14 cut. Glad I told her up-front I didn't want a blow-dry)

I plucked "Midnight's Children" from our bookcase the other night and have started reading it. So far I'm on page 40 and it's funny and really wordy. I'm of the opinion that the country of India is pretty much an ess-hole so I'm wondering if reading this novel might change my mind. I shall keep you posted!

Well, I tried on about eight different templates to update the look/feel of motormouth's blogland, but in the end, I still like this one the best. So now, everything old is new again! :)

Running today, with intermittent walking, all on the track at Monstro's university. Here's how it broke down:

stretch
warm up: 800 m with two flat-out 100m straightaways
stretch
workout: 800m with four flat-out 100m straightaways, walking briskly on the curves.
cooldown: 400m walk, stretching

There was a guy walking in lane one (big pet peeve of mine): when I started he was half a lap ahead of me. Before I finished my second warm-up lap, I'd passed him. Boo-yah!

My left knee is hurting and my left leg is feeling tight. Time for a massage!

I had to remove KeMa Blog from my blogroll prior to my Writing for the Media final exam, but I am pleased to welcome KeMa and her blog back to my blogroll.

Welcome back, to that same old place that you laughed about...

but between my mom's surgery on Monday (and the endless dr. appointments for the month prior to that), Babykins cutting his first tooth, and Lex's cellulitis, I'm pretty worn. Maybe next week.

After a veraciously busy day, I still managed to get in a run, thanks to Monstro, who watched both boys at the "little playground" while I did some road running. It was my first time running on roads since I've resumed running (awesome alliteration) and I forgot how much I enjoyed it and how tough it can be on the knees. According to my iPod, I ran 12+ minutes without stopping, which is the longest stretch I've done since resuming running. Saw my former ice-cream rival while I was out, too. Very funny. Best as I can tell, I ran close to a mile. Heck yeah!