Hijack Returns (not for the faint of heart)

Rach is attending to the injury and I have taken control of the blog (I am Beth, the most wonderful sister in the world.)
Marathoning is physically grueling and fatal for Toenail #2 on the right foot. The pictures don't quite do it justice, but Rach concludes that the loss of a toenail is a small price to pay to the marathoning gods for the finisher's medal and the satisfaction of finishing our first marathon.

Next on our agenda of "Sister's Vacation Week" is to make our own marathon shirts to commemorate the event since the ones they gave us (and we paid good money for) are pathetically inadequate, and don't fit well. We wanted more than a genderless running cowboy to show off that we ran 26.2. More details to follow.

My problem (It's all I could think to write about to make a real post, not like the last one)

I have a problem. Not the embarrassing kind that people talk about during Testimony Meeting, or on their blogs, that make other people uncomfortable and are best mentioned in private but still make people uncomfortable.

It's more of a growing tendency that I have to constantly reign in. Keep in check. Be very metacognitive about.

I guess it's all Lareine's fault (she is my 7 month-old niece, daughter of Beth). I have fallen in love with children. But that's not a problem, per se.

The problem is this: every time I see a child (who is clean and not crying), I have this urge to pick them up, ask them a question, start playing with them. It's a very, very strong urge. To the point of weirdness.

Like today, I was running on the Provo River Trail. There was a mom on a bike towing a kid-carrier, and her daughter was 20 yards behind struggling up the hill on her own pink Huffy, streamers and all. She said, "I can't make it up." I answered, "You can do it!" Her face was a mix of bewilderment and half-smile--she didn't mind my comment, but she wasn't talking to me.

In my defense, I do generally refrain from picking up the child who has caught my attention, mostly because I think that would scare them or their moms. That's really the problem--the moms. Some moms just smile when strangers notice their adorable little ones. But some do not smile. I may not be the most threatening of passer-by, but it is still not okay that I just asked them when they lost their tooth (at the post office), or how old they are (at the grocery store), or which movie they want to pick out (at the library).

I guess as long as I don't try to give them candy and a ride in the car, I'm not doing anything too socially unacceptable. And maybe I'm normal. And maybe this is what they are talking about by "maternal instinct." Either way, I think I better stick to playing with kids I actually know. And look forward to having my own.

Oh

I have finally been persuaded, cajoled, manipulated, shamed, reminded, and at last forced to write a blog by my long-suffering, convincing, patiently persistent, loving-but-firm, and hard-to-say-no-to sister. To quote:

Beth: "It's been FOREVER since you wrote. Like 7 months."

Rach: "It's only been since April."

Beth (with Reid giving immediate confirmation of the veracity via head nod): "It's been since your Christmas request."

Rach: "Oh."

So, I'm writing. Beth had better comment because this post is really only interesting to her. And she really is hard to say no to, mostly because her baby is so cute.

But the problem is, I haven't blogged since December because I feel like I don't have much that is blog worthy to say. The situation has not changed...the end.