A Schizophrenic Weekend

This is the only way that I can describe the emotions that I have gone through this past weekend. And now I don't know if I should start with the feelings of elation of the feelings of lugubriousness. I will start with the feelings of elation, because then if you get bored with this, you don't have to suffer through my suffering.
This extremely cute baby is not mine, as far as I know. My littlest sister, Kellie, had him on Friday. He was 8 lbs 12 oz (if I remember right. All I can remember for sure was that he wasn't bigger than 9 lbs 10 oz, because if he was bigger, I would have had to have another one just to maintain the record. She argues that due to her diminutive size that she is the winner with mom to baby ratio, but I say we're going off the baby's weight, not the mama's, because all uteri are created equal). Look at that cute little face! I can't wait to hold him and hold him and hold him some more when we visit in a couple of weeks. His name is Yan 2 Perry Edward Kimberly Barber. Ok, so he doesn't have my name and it's actually Yan'tu, but I will be calling him Tuey. He's the baby brother of four sisters that are full of personality, spunk, and the genetic cuteness. He's in for a ton of costume changes.

Not that the birth of an adorable little boy isn't big news, but hold onto your hats, people. My dear friend, Emily, yes. the one that ran the marathon with me in January in which no one noticed me, except my fantastic sisters, because, well, here let me remind you:

She's the one in the hot pink top, not that you even looked at anyone else. This was a charity run for her, meaning, she ran 26.2 miles at MY pace. We finished in 4:12.05 and 4:12.06 holding hands across the finish line. It's true. Call it cheesy, but we agreed upon it before the race. She qualified for Boston a couple of weeks before this marathon and then AGAIN a couple of weeks later, in which she won that marathon. She set a goal for herself to qualify for the New York Marathon, which for her age is 3:23. I would like to not put the comment that I texted her when I realized how fast per mile that was, but I texted her "Do you know how fast you have to run to get that?" It's true. I didn't mean her specifically, I meant in general what a person must do, but it was not received like that. Not kind, especially after all she did for me in my first marathon and brought my sisters together. Sooooooooo........this past weekend was the marathon which she set for herself to qualify. Without going into detail, the last two-three weeks leading up to the race were horrific, emotional, torturous, and I don't have enough words to say the level of rottenness that she was going through, even leading up to the start of the race. I doubt that anyone with a third of the garbage leading up to it would have had the mental/physical/emotional stamina to even step foot on the course. So, on the morning of the 4th of July, I was up at 6:30am, the race start time, and I checked the Flat Foot Traffic Marathon site to find out where she was. Nothing. So I had to wait. I don't like waiting. Why couldn't I be there to cheer her on and scream crazy supportive things like "You go, girl!"? Well, because it was in Portland and I was in Phoenix. I was very jealous of her just for that. Anxiously, I sat by my phone waiting for anything, even a text saying that she tripped on her first step, broke her leg, and that was it. Finally, at 10:19 her mom sent me a text. It said "She finished and we are looking for her time." I was thrilled to hear that she had finished and didn't die! Not that this was a possibility, but you know I am a little dramatic. And then, at 10:25 she texted me "I got it!!!!!!!!!!" That's the exact number of exclamation points. She ran a 3:20.29!!! I was textless. Tears welled up in my eyes. I can't even begin to describe my complete admiration for all that I knew she had been going through, and to do that?! She is a wonder. Now I am blogless in trying to describe how amazing she is. She kept thanking me over and over again for all I had done for her, but really, it was all her. I was just her little cheerleader giving her the encouragement to do the things that she is capable of. And from now on, until she does something else super amazing, I will refer to her as New York Marathon Qualifier Emily.

"Cried and cried. Her eyes were red." from Madeline, the book. Now for the sad, sad, sad news. Alison left me. For another country. She moved to Norway with her husband and family. I found myself breaking down in tears thinking that I could not see her whenever I wanted. Not that I could really do that before she left since she lived in Sandy, Ut, but I didn't have to cross an ocean to see her. She had planned on coming to Phoenix on her way to LAX (really, it's on the way people) and we were going to hang out for a couple of days. She got a lot of opposition from her dad who was helping her drive to LA, but she was determined, but then reality hit. There was just too much to do and too little time and she was not going to be able to make it. I thought about flying up to Utah and driving with her to California, but knew that it was not feasible and would put a great deal of strain on the husband. I cried thinking that I wasn't going to get a chance to say good bye, and in the end, we said good bye by text. I think it was better that way because if I had talked to her I would have been a blubbering fool. I know, I know, I should just get an iPhone, there's Skype, and I will be going to see her for a European vacation, but it was difficult. She has been instrumental in molding me into the fascinating, super mom and wife that I am. It's taken her nearly thirteen years to do it, and I am still a work in progress, but who's going to pick up the slack now that's she's gone? I guess if Emily can qualify for the New York Marathon under the phenomenal circumstances that she was under, she's up for this kind of challenge. I just hope she realizes the kind of time commitment that is necessary to help me achieve my full potential.