Dinosaur vs. The Library

Most kids have some books.  Some kids have many books.  Only a few kids have most of the many books.

My kid is one of those kids. 

Read it NOW!

Granted, most kids don't have a Grammy that sends a grocery bag full of books home with them every time they visit (which is several times a week, given that we live 3 miles away).  These books have been accumulated during my mother's years of teaching - all purchased with her own money, so when she left, they left with her.  I don't know what she thought she was going to do with them, but I'm guessing that when I told her I was pregnant her first thought was something like this:

"I'm going to have a grandchild!  Thank goodness those books won't be stored at my house!"

And so, with the exception of two enormous tubs that remain at Grammy's house, the Esber Family District Library was formed.  As the de-facto Head Librarian of this establishment, I'd like to take a moment to give you a tour.

This is the shelf we keep handy for diaper changes, mealtime entertainment, and short bursts of reading.  These are not arranged in any order whatsoever as we typically see them all pulled off the shelf and re-shelved approximately 496 times a day.

   

This is the bin of currently-in-use books.  We have different topics in here, but generally speaking the common thread for this bin is "books that the Little Mister likes to read on a regular basis."  It sits next to the couch and is pulled from for our morning and evening reading sessions.  Books are rotated in and out as needed.
 

These are our before bed books.  They includes bedtime stories and our Bibles.  As you can see, our main patron is showing off currently using this section. 

These are the same books, after our patron decided that sitting nicely in front of the camera is BOOOOOORING...

  

 These are our stalling-before-bed books.  Used primarily to guilt one or both librarians into reading one more story before bed.  Always one more story.

Now you are probably thinking, "That's not so many books.  What kind of library do you think you're running here lady?"  But before you go into a tirade about tax payer dollars being used to fund public services like a library, please allow me to show you our archives:

 

Each bin is individually labeled with the subject of books that it contains.  For example, our Junior Librarian's (yes, I totally just called Patrick our Junior Librarian) favorite:

The archives are where we pull new books from and where we search if we want a book on a specific topic.  They are pretty extensive.  The main problem is getting them back in the proper bin, as the Master Librarian and philanthropist of this project (my mom) has had to tell me on multiple occasions that books about money go in the math bin (not science or American government), books about habitats go in the science bin (not non-fiction animals), and under no circumstances are the units on insects and birds allowed to be grouped together in a "flying things" pile.  Sheesh.

Patrick and I are both big readers, so I know we are both looking forward to sharing each and every book in the Esber Family District Library with our son over the years.  Patrick has already outlined a reading plan to ensure we read all of the books before the Little Mister goes to kindergarten (I suspect he has a spreadsheet, but he won't own up to it).  And that plan should work beautifully...if we can somehow become the first parents to ever convince an 18 month old NOT to just re-read the same 5 books over and over and over and over...

Bonus points to whoever can guess what his favorite subject is!

And the winner is...

A few posts back, I mentioned that Patrick and I were planning on racing each other in a 5k on the Fourth of July.  After weeks of procrastinating, the stakes finally got set: the winner would have ONE FULL DAY TO THEMSELVES.  No chores, no work, no child rearing responsibilities.  Um, sorry Patrick, but you're going down.

For the child-less among you (I figure those with kids don't need an explanation) please allow me to clarify that I love my son more than I have ever loved anything on this planet.  He is precious and dear to me, and my time with him is treasured.  But the job of motherhood is all-consuming like nothing else, and as much as it truly is the best job ever, it is also the most frustrating/tiring/weary one...and a day off sounds like nirvana.

Now, I am 100% sure that if I asked Patrick, he would give me a day to myself.  But a day off that I haven't earned through any means but whining comes with a lot of guilt for me.  But a day off that I earned by leveling my beloved husband's rear in a race?  Bring it.

So I ramped up my training.  I did speed work: tempos, farleks, repeats.  All while pushing my son in the jogger and sweating like a wildebeest.  I started to think that I could really beat him.  Never mind that he's a guy...he wasn't training at all.  Victory was beginning to look assured.

And then, the week before the race, he decided to go running with me.  I was doing 3 one mile repeats, and since I am benevolent, I let him push the jogger on the first one.  After all, I am clearly in better shape and it only gets harder...so go ahead and take the 27 pound little mister and the 29 pound stroller first and I'll take them second (and probably the third, right?  Since I'm in better shape and all.)

After the second repeat, I am dying.  It is hot, and doing speed work while pushing 56 pounds is not my idea of fun.  But hey, at least I know Patrick will be down for stopping, right?  Wrong.  "I'll take him, let's just finish," he says.  What?!?!  NOOOOOOOOOOOO!  I'm supposed to be the one killing this workout!  I'm supposed to be the one laughing in your face as you finish in back of your wife!  I'm supposed to be the one getting a day off!  Especially that last one!  Halfway around that third repeat, I snatch the jogger back out of pure stubbornness and barely finish.

I am bummed for the next 5 days.  How do men do that?  Are they THAT much more naturally athletic?  Is all my hard work going to be for naught?  Even worse, if I win how will I know that Patrick isn't just letting me win?  That would be worse than losing.  So I turn to my only option left: to intimidate him and hence gain a competitive advantage.  Commence the trash talking.

I tell Patrick it's too bad he's going to lose to a girl.  I threaten to punch him in the kidney if he passes me.  I talk up how incredibly long this one hill of the course is (I have run this race before, he has not).  I remind him numerous times of all that time he hasn't been running.  I tell the people at the packet pick-up that he is going to lose to his wife.  I attempt to stuff him full of yummy vacation food like pretzel bread and ice cream.  I assure him that even though we're spending the entire week with my parents, I'm sure they'll understand him beating their one and only daughter in a race.  I earnestly try to get him to run with Quixx as the 6 million potty stops would surely slow him down.  I even think seriously about not waking him up the morning of the race.  Can't win if you don't run, right??

Finally, race day is upon us.  And like all things in scenic Benzie County, it starts at 8:11 (even though the paper said it would start promptly at 8 am.  Actually, 11 minutes past might still qualify as prompt up there.)  I try to take the pace out fairly brisk in the first mile as I have decided that my best chance is to tucker him out early and hope he lags behind.  He does not, but I do have a glimmer of hope around the 1 mile mark as we ascend a medium-sized rolling hill and he pants, "is this the big hill?" and I gleefully respond, "no!"

I continue to push the pace up the actual hill, but then we turn down a seasonal road.  Oh no, I forgot about this part.  Patrick is better than me on trails AND on long downhills, and this is both.  Crap crap crap.

I stick fairly close to him, and get the benefit of a road crossing to catch all the way back up.  We are neck and neck for the last half-mile...and then with about 200 meters to go, I start to sprint.  I can feel him behind me, but I literally say out-loud, "a.full.day.off...you.can.do.this."

With about 50 meters to go, I start to fear that I used my kick too quickly...and Patrick is right there again.  But, wait.  The chute is backed up.  THE CHUTE IS BACKED UP!  All I need to do is get slightly in front of him and...

BAM!  I spread my arms out like I am boxing him out, and show Patrick once and for all that I might not be the faster racer, but (for today at least) I might just be the smarter one...

Kelsey Esber          F 25-29    29     27:43.18

Patrick Esber         M 25-29    29     27:43.34