Beat at the meet

Emily had her 3rd meet of the season a few weeks ago. It was a great one, and she did well. Topped her best ever scores on bars, vault and floor and all around! She also qualified to zones, which was a major goal of hers this season.
She tied 2 other girls for second place on floor. The other two girls were called first and so the podium was quite crowded by the time her name was called. This was her first time placing in the top 3 and you could tell she wanted on that podium so badly. She put one foot on and eventually the other girls made room for her. She smiles so beautifully, her pride evident in that moment where all of her hard work is rewarded. We're smiling too, Patrick and I and the other team parents. We've become a close knit group and each other's children's successes are like our own children's.

Patrick went out to the car ahead of us, while Em and I hung back for a few minutes. I was making lunch plans with the other parents and Em was posing for pictures. She left that day with five medals and a huge boost in pride and confidence. We walked out to the car feeling great, and there was Patrick. Holding a tissue to his face....bleeding.

me: What happened? Are you ok?!?

Patrick: Yeah, some guy ran up and punched me in the face, said "oh sorry, I thought you were someone else" and took off running down the street"

me: are you fucking with me? (he does that.....a lot) Did you just get a bloody nose and make up some story?

Patrick: No I'm serious, I'm not much of a bleeder (this is true)

So we all exclaim over him and wow, that's crazy and he gets a lot of attention.

His summary of the event..... "I wish I could say that's the first time that's happened to me"

At least she's up front about it

Introducing herself to a little girl at the gym

"Hi, my name's Caliana, and I'm craaaaaaaaazy"


No doubt.

Feeling the love

If mushiness makes you want to vomit, click away, click away now. This is a post about my wonderful husband and it's a total mushfest.

We've known each other since we were 11, over 18 years now and I'm so thankful to be his wife. Here are just a few of the reasons why....

-He does most of the laundry

-He does most of the dishes

-Ok look, he does most of the housework period

-He does all of the yardwork

-He takes care of our baby girl every day....and he does it well, he works with her in her workbooks, makes paper bag puppets, builds forts, buries treasure in the yard for her to find, takes her for walks and bike rides, puts on her bandaids and loves her more than words can say

-He also gets up with her when she wakes up at night and lets me sleep

-He has cute freckles

-He doesn't like TV so I never have to fight him for the remote

-But he'll still watch a movie with me when I ask

-He makes me laugh

-He's a good cook

-He understands all my music lyric and old movie line references

-He calls me nicknames like "love" "life" and "my queen" and he means it

-He loves me unconditionally, more than anyone else on earth

He'll be the death of me

Sunday afternoon.....

I was cleaning....purging Damien and Caliana's room, which was a huge undertaking. I cleared out 3 garbage bags full of toys. Cali was alternating helping me and playing with toys recently unearthed from the clutter. Emily was watching tv and folding laundry, and Damien went for a bike ride.
Typically this means he rides around the block and goes to the house of one of four friends' that live on our block. No cause for concern.

Dinnertime rolled around and he wasn't back yet, so I sent the girls to check his friends' houses, and I drove to the two playgrounds near our house. No luck, but it was still an hour until dark and knowing it was Damien, we weren't in panic mode yet. Just as we were sitting down to dinner, Damien walks in sobbing. He had gone to the apartment complex nearby to play at their playground and had a run-in with an older boy. 14 by Damien's telling. This boy apparantly yelled "come on man, one on one, one on one" and socked Damien up a bit. Damien tried to leave and the kid blocked him for awhile before letting him go.

Of course I was livid to hear this and Patrick was ready to go over there to confront said child and parents, but Damien said no. He was sad about it, but didn't want to go back. We had dinner. We also had a talk about how important it is for him to tell us where he's going, so we know where he is at all times. There was much nodding and agreeing.





Cue yesterday.....

We get home and Damien says "mom, can I go for a bike ride?"

me: "Where are you wanting to ride?"

D: "Just to the church playground"

"Ok, but just go there and back! NO where else!"

"Ok mom" *much nodding and reassuring*


45 minutes later......

Patrick: "Love, there's a cop car just pulled up with a bike in the trunk, want to go talk to him?"

Oh sure I'd love to take that one.

Officer: "Hi maa'm, were you aware that your son was riding his bike down the freeway?"

Of course! Don't all parents let their 8 year olds play on the freeway?

"Uh no! He had very specific instructions to ride to the church half a block up and nowhere else"

"He said he was trying to ride to your old house to play with his friend. Is that far?"

"Yeah, it's um, across town. Well thank you for bringing him home" *walks back inside with much parental guilt seeping out of my pores*


I guess when we tell Damien "go there and nowhere else" he takes it as a challenge to ride on the most dangerous road to the farthest place he can think of.

We've banned bike rides, forever.

Such babies

This was me five years ago. I wasn't quite 25.



I liked my hair.




This was my husband. He wasn't quite 25 either.




His hair is pretty much the same.




We would conceive our youngest that month, but at that point we only had 2 children.

They looked like this




and this (the toothless one)




My grandma was still alive. She would have turned 93 today. Happy Birthday Grandma.