A Little Boy Called Mud

There once was a little guy dubbed Mud

Whose mama refused to call him Hud

So instead of Hudson

She started calling him Mudson

Which then got shortened to Mud

Well, that little Mud of ours

Has now clocked 4,380 hours

Just to be clear

That's half a year

Time has streamed by like a shower

We think that he's a fab dude

Whose favorite past times include

Laughing, smiling, and sitting up tall

But thankfully he doesn't yet crawl

He's even started eating solid food

His hair is still mess

Enough to impress

The likes of Einstein

and the Medusa kind

To a haircut I'll finally acquiesce

There's lots of folks around here

Who find him quite dear

Grandparents like G & Pop

  

Moms, dads, and brotherly tots

Even though their affection sometimes causes a tear

Here are his stats for all who care:

10% head not including his hair

26.5 inches, that's 55 percent

Weighing in at 16.5 pounds (33%)--just like one particular parent

And now that I've written it down, these numbers will surely disappear from my head into thin air.

So three cheers for the smallest Peek

Whom we've definitely decided to keep!

Race Day

Don't call me crazy.  

Don't be impressed (because there's really not anything to be impressed about).

Because this is where my friend Leah & I were last weekend, amidst the sea of 25, 000 other runners.

And this is me finishing...

How do you like my amazing 6 pac abs six months post-partum?  Pretty snazzy, huh?  And I'm sure you also like my obvious Hispanic persuasion.  Just going to San Antonio turns me into a ripped Latina running machine.

Instead, this was me finishing, just happy to still be standing...

Not an understatement.  What started off as this kind of race...

Dwindled to a snail's pace around mile 9.  I crossed the finish line though, and I suppose that's the most important thing.  The blazing hot temperatures should have been my first clue that this was not going to be a PR race.  Or maybe the fact that I just had a baby 6 months ago.  Or that Hudson was not a fan of the bed I made him sleep in at the hotel, therefore sleep was an unobtainable luxury for me that night. 

The most grueling part was the mile walk I had to make after the race to make it back to the hotel to feed Little Man.  I crossed the finish line and just kept going without even sitting down.  So I guess my medal (that Hudson happily gnawed) counts for the total 14 miles that I moved that day.

Even though it wasn't my most star performance, I love race days and was so glad to be able to carve another notch on my running belt.  The adrenaline, the enthusiasm, the crowds, the cheering, the music...if you've never run or even been to a road race, I highly recommend it.  Here is but a smattering of all the entertaining things there were to see on the course that day:

• the Alamo (It must be noted that the Alamo is directly across the street from Ripley's Believe It or Not and a few other tourist traps.  I wonder how Alamo hero Mr. Bowie would feel about that.)
• A little boy with a sign that said "You better run faster...I just farted."
• Two barefoot runners
• A dog with three legs
• A man running in a kilt
• A giant dude who really could have been a player for the Spurs
• A runner dressed as a hot dog
• Another sign that said "This is the most boring parade ever."

I will say that my favorite part about training for this race was the quality time I got to spend with my old high school friend, Leah.  Our Saturday long runs were like a weekly coffee date--minus the coffee,  plus sore quads when it was all said and done.  In fact, Leah was the first one to sign up for this race and let me come along to crash the party.  So none of this would have been possible without her.

Overall, our little weekend getaway to San Antonio was such a blast.  Though the race wasn't as stellar as I had hoped, it reminded me that sometimes all there is to do is just keep putting one foot in front of the other.  Such is running, such is life.  A very applicable life lesson when these days my heart is not so keen on returning to China.  So for now, I'll just keep on going.

Ode to Sami

This is the Sam that we know & love:

I love seeing how far you've come developmentally, from a wee sprat of a baby to a big little boy.

I loved getting to know you through pictures when we were continents apart.

But I loved even more getting to meet you for the first time.

I love that God provided a special nanny for you when you were in Ethiopia.  She even cried when we took you away from her to bring you home.

I love how you've downed milk from the beginning and now insist on calling it "guk" even though I know you know how to say it correctly.

I love that you would be happy to eat bananas all day, every day (if i let you).

I love your giant brown eyes and am incredibly envious of your fabulous lashes.

I love all your facial expressions.

I love God's testimony of grace in your life regarding your seizures.  You've been seizure-free for over a year and off meds for months.  In fact, this picture was taken at the international hospital in Beijing the day of your first seizure.  Not even seizures could cramp your smily style.

I love it when you come in the room, look up at me, and say "Hi!"

I love that you think the Quaker Oats man is Uncle Chris.

I love your squishiness.

I love how your were a mad man on wheels in your "xue bu che" and made our toes thankful to be protected inside our house shoes.

I love your sweet, snuggly, sleepy self.

I love that you've already chipped your front tooth, even though you've had it less than a year.  Perhaps that's telling of what lies ahead for a rough & tumble kind of kid like you.

I love that you are a giant baby and would be pleased to be carried everywhere.  I even put you back in the Ergo a month or so ago and you thought that was pretty fab.

I love how you love your daddy.

I love how you open the fridge and announce to me that it's "peanut butter jelly time."

I love that you waited an entire year before learning to crawl.  Having one immobile child made the transition from zero to two children much easier.  And it preserved your babyness that much longer for me to enjoy.

I love watching you fishy second nature come out whenever we take you swimming (or give you a bath for that matter).

I love it when you find any excuse just to be snuggled, saying to me "Sit de mommy."



I love that you haven't figured out enough pronouns to know that while asking me to "carry you" is incredibly cute & endearing, it is utterly grammatically incorrect.

I love your fascination with backhoes, tractors, and all things wheel.

I love your laugh & and your smile.

I love your laugh when we play with balloons or throw blankets on your heard.

I love your incessant cries of "Yay!  I did it!"

I love seeing your connection with your brothers and how you want to do every single thing Micah does.

I love how you retrieve the syrup from the pantry as a not-so subtle request for pancakes.

I love that when you were first learning to talk, you would tell me your name was "I am Fam."  To this day, your nickname is still Fam.

I love when you declare to Micah "I like you!"

I love seeing the dare devil in you when you ride scooters in the cul-de-sac.

I love how you request to read "Most of All, Jesus Loves You" at least a dozen times per day.

I love how you're becoming so verbal, despite the fact that you have to duke it out with Micah to get a chance to speak.

I love your eye dimples.

Sam's stats:
(for all who care, including me who will promptly forget these numbers as soon as I type this)
height 34.75" (60%)
weight 29 lbs (72%)
head 48.2 cm (37%)

And Sam wanted to share a final word of thanks for all who love him:

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