It's All in the Family

Something interrupted me in a deep sleep. Being a creature of habit, I glance at the clock- 1:42 a.m. A dark figure in the doorway poses me the question, "What now?"

Normally, dark shadowy figures standing in my doorway in the wee hours of the morning would have given me heart failure, but this figure didn't have the voice of a crazed maniacal serial killer, just the endearing voice of my 12 year old.

My mind considered his question, "What now?" and honestly, since it was almost 2 a.m. I thought, "How about going back to bed?" Instead, I think, I answered, "About what?"

"The rocket!" came the reply.

"The rocket..."

"It looked like a light bulb."

My head was reeling. Was it my half awake state or the cold medicine I had taken before bed that made this conversation so hard to follow and even harder to comprehend? I didn't get a chance to figure it out before the conversation continued.

"The rocket looked like a light bulb?" I had to ask.

"Yeah, and there's only one left."

I just sat there thankful the room was dark so he wouldn't see the confusion written all over my face. He jumped up on the bed and sat down, "So....what should I do?"

In my stupor I figured he was talking about either: 1- NASA's rockets or 2- His homemade rocket which consists of a film canister and Easter egg half glued on top and fueled by baking soda & vinegar, so I asked him point blank, "Are you talking about the government's rocket or your own?"

The irritated answer came as, "The government's!"

"Well, honey, if they are the government's rockets there's not much you can do."

He was quiet. My mind was trying to process everything in the ensuing silence and that is when it dawned on me...he was sleep walking and talking. He was taking after my side of the family!

I got him settled and back to sleep, but in the morning he could remember the last part of our bizarre conversation, so the questions began and the stories were told.

Stories that included those of my brothers mistakenly using the hamper as the toilet, how I got the scar on the right side of my forehead, and Richard threw in a few of the crazy things I used to tell him in my sleep as a newlywed. And of course, we had to tell the story to top all sleepwalking stories, about the night my brother, Nate, left the house, walked across our busy intersection to a friends home where he was dreaming he was to tell my other brother it was time to come home. Luckily, he woke up before he rang the doorbell. But the best part of the story? He did it all in his Yoda pajamas and bare feet.

So although, Ashton may have gotten Richard's eyes, sensitive demeanor, and intellect, I'm happy to know he got the fun DNA from me. I will sleep better at night knowing I have passed on something worth while. Well, after last night's little episode maybe that's not true, but at least, I'll have the laughs they produce to keep me comfortable while I'm awake.

Don't Mess with Tradition

At our family gatherings there are certain dishes that are traditional to eat. At the Parke Family Christmas parties it is always dessert- Granny Parke's Pineapple Fluff and Peanut Brittle Dessert. The second takes a little getting used to, the first, if made right (read- not made by me), is a little scoop of heaven. The rest of the meal can change yearly, but dessert should remain the same. It just isn't Christmas with out ingesting calories in those forms.

On my side of the family, the traditional dishes debut at Thanksgiving and make an encore appearance for Christmas dinner. The only problem is we have 2 Thanksgiving dinners by celebrating Canadian Thanksgiving in October and American Thanksgiving in November, so by the time we have Christmas dinner in December, I am ready to retire the Green Bean Casserole and Sweet Potato Casserole recipes' for another 9 months.

Except this year.

I made the traditional dishes for our Canadian Thanksgiving that we shared with friends and I brought home almost a full pan of each....which I ate a portion of for lunch... for the next week.

I'll tell you that leftovers are good, but not that good. Bleck!

By the time that planning our American Thanksgiving dinner came around I didn't even want to think about green beans, sweet potatoes, or casseroles in general, let alone eat any of them. So I just said, "NO" to more tradition. This year we would just make do with candied yams and cooked carrots on Thanksgiving.

When I told Richard about the lack of traditional dishes at this years dinner he was appalled. I like to make my hubby happy, so I relented and agreed to make a small green bean casserole. Then on Thanksgiving morning, I was on the phone with my mom she mentioned how disappointed my brother, Nate, was that we weren't having the Sweet Potato casserole...

You can't have disappointed people at Thanksgiving dinner, so since there was still time and I had all the ingredients and I'm the nicest sister he has (the fact I'm the only sister he has doesn't count), I gave into tradition a second time.

On Tuesday, I ate the last helping of sweet potato casserole for lunch all in the name of blessed tradition. It's not gone, I just can not bear to eat another bite. It is sitting in my fridge waiting it's journey to the trash can or disposal since it's week expiry date is up. No one else has had any and the date today is December 2nd with our traditional Christmas Eve dinner, with the traditional dishes looming only a mere 22 days away... 

Here's to hoping Christmas comes slowly...very, very slowly.

Sky Duster

You have to wonder what kind of day lays ahead when you have an appetizer consisting of 2 Advil, 1 Tylenol, and a diet Dr. Pepper before breakfast. Sleep was in short supply last night and I was paying for it this morning. But there was a bright spot in my sleep deprived head throbbing stupor...Yesterday.

Yesterday, was beautiful. Simply beautiful.

It was one of those days we are blessed with during the cold, dark winter that gives us hope that spring really is coming and that sun and warmth are not lost. A beacon of light in what seems like an endless night and I couldn't get enough.

So you will understand my disappointment when I woke this morning to cloudy gray skies and rain. I had planned to do a road run this morning, but decided against it, after I walked the boys to school and found the rain had frozen making the road and sidewalks like a skating rink.

As I headed home to face the hamster wheel instead of the open road, I found myself wishing I could somehow rid the skies of those ugly clouds and restore them to that beautiful azure blue of yesterday.

I was wishing for a sky duster.

This wish was a familiar one.

Growing up our family never went on vacation anywhere we couldn't stay with family or in a tent. The majority of the time we ended up in Oregon, staying with Uncle Albert and Aunt Annie. Their property complete with a garden full of raspberries, a large yard great for exploring, and a stream next to their home gave us plenty of entertainment, so we didn't know any different or really care. But all of those things were useless if it rained, which even in northeast Oregon it does...often...especially if we were on vacation.

This was the case one particular visit when I was 7. It rained and rained, so outdoor play was out of the question. Since I couldn't play, I took up cleaning. Annie had this great duster with a long wooden handle so you could reach ceiling corners and other high places. I think I had dusted every corner, pile, nook & cranny of Annie's home. And at Annie's that's saying something, she being a depression era survivor who saved everything... But still the rain seemed to never let up.

The duster

In the back bedroom, I laid on the old quilt topped bed complaining about the weather and with the duster in hand, mentioned to my mom how I wished I had a duster with a stick long enough to dust the clouds away.

A sky duster.

My mother, trying to provide a distraction and being the lover of poetry she is, helped me turn my wish into a poem.

So here is my 7 turned 33 year old's wish for today.

Sky Duster

I wish I had a duster with a stick to reach the sky,

I'd dust the grey out of the clouds as they went flying by.

I'd make them white and fluffy, like cotton candy too,

Then there wouldn't be rain clouds, to rain on me or you.

-Natalie Huff Parke & Jeanne Huff 1984

And you know, wishes about the weather don't always come true, but in spite of last night's lack of sleep, the pain in my head is gone, and even the hour on the hamster wheel felt great...So maybe today wasn't so cloudy after all.

Maybe, I'll leave the dusting for another day.

The Secret to GREAT Play Dough

Lately it seems like the blogging community has been doing "instructional" posts on how to make fabulous foods, so I thought... I like to follow the cool kids...I can be a follower... I don't want to be left out!

The only problem is that I don't make anything that I feel like is spectacular enough to demonstrate.

But yesterday, we made homemade play dough. Why homemade? Because like most things homemade, it is just simply better.

And you can make a ton of it.

And you can make it any color your little heart desires.

And it is a great way of teaching pre-schoolers about mixing primary colors to make secondary colors.

And you get to squish it between your fingers while making the top secret sound that makes great play dough...great!

The "chant".

I figure you can get a recipe for homemade play dough anywhere, but the "chant"... well...it has to be done just right for the colors to mix properly. Luckily for you, Ben happened to be performing the "chant" just right, so I grabbed the camera to document it and share our secret(& because I'm his mom and thought it was cute).

See... he even confirms it...When you do the chant it shows the color more and when you don't chant, it doesn't.

I told you I can't make anything food wise that is spectacular, so please, don't eat any. I think it would give you a terrible tummy ache and I don't want to be responsible for that.

Happy chanting.

The above link is to my friends awesome earth friendly blog and her recipe for Natural Play Dough, it doesn't include alum, which no one seems to have in their cupboards anyway.

But if you are interested, here is mine: Grandma Jeanne's Play dough

2 1/2 cups flour

2 cups boiling water

1/2 cup salt

3 TBSP oil

1 TBSP alum (you find it in the spice isle)

Food Coloring & the "chant".

Mix the dry ingredients together. Add the oil to the water and gradually add it into the dry mixture while mixing. You can add the food coloring while mixing or wait until the dough has cooled and knead it in by hand. Store in airtight baggies in the fridge. Enjoy creating!

Inspiration

I love being able to go to church. I love sitting in a class or meeting and being struck with inspiration; those little "a-ha" moments when I recognize some tid bit that I can use in my life to make it easier, overcome challenges, become a better person, or to just simply- make me happier. Yesterday, I had one of those moments.

If you have read my blog for awhile you may have noticed that this month it has been different. I'm not talking about the sparse content contributed so far, that happens more often than not, but I am talking about the look. There has been no cutesy background or clever header photo to fit the month of January; just plain, boring, blah. Which is about how I feel about January...blah.

January is hard. How can it not be after following all the hoopla of December? There is the post holiday letdown followed by the fatigue of lots of family togetherness, acting like a covert spy to accomplish gift requests, the decorating and worst of all, the undecorating. There is the scrutinizing of the current state of our lives with New Year resolutions, topped off with the realization of just how many facets of our lives we are falling short in and need to improve on. And in our family's case, heap on top of all that, the 3 different home reno projects we completed at our parent's homes, including one paint job turned nightmare by the discovery of black mold, which added an extra day and a half and new drywall to the schedule. Coupled with my need to complete 25 hours of dreaded, so therefore procrastinated, continuing education hours before the end of the year and you have how I feel... the complete and utter need to be and do nothing. In a word- blah.

Oh, and did I mention the weather? I am in the opinion that unless I am able to hit the slopes, the snow, cold, and grey skies aren't needed anymore and we should go directly from New Year's to spring. White Christmas? Mission accomplished. Now snow, snow, go away.

I'm sorry to be a downer, so this is where my inspiration comes in. At church yesterday, a friend of mine was dressed in this cute, cheerful, red, Hawaiian inspired dress, it was the complete opposite of blah and so it hit me... I need something cheerful and reminiscent of warmth and sun to make it through the rest of the month! So here you have it- my new blog background.

So even though I am partial to the beaches of the Pacific Northwest, I'm finding the looks of Hawaii or sunny So Cal. very enticing, not to mention inspirational.  But of course, their inspiration is not to be out done by Sunday School...

Santa's Helpers

I know that we are half way through January, but I have tried to send this video of my mother's reaction to her Christmas present to my sister-in-law numerous times and no matter how I try to send it, it will not go. So I am posting it here. Thanks for the indulgence.

As a young girl, when my mom would venture out of the house on various mom duties she would often be visited by "The Good Fairy". The Good Fairy performed all sorts of magical tasks that in our home where my 3 older brothers lived usually centered around organizing and cleaning. You never knew when she would strike; my mother would leave on a grocery shopping trip and return to find that something had been straightened, organized, or just put in a better state than she left it. My mother loved it when The Good Fairy visited.

Well, The Good Fairy has grown up, but she still on occasion, likes to make surprise visits to my parent's home. Growing up also means that she now has connections and accomplices, even ones that live all the way in Idaho. Having connections and accomplices also means that The Good Fairy's magic is greatly enhanced and even more complicated tasks can be accomplished.

Dallin, one of The Good fairy's best accomplices & Santa's helper.

Well, it has been a while since The Good Fairy made an appearance at my parent's home, so it was a big surprise to my mom and dad when she and some of Santa's helpers made a stop one weekend in December, working their magic and leaving them a Christmas gift that would leave them "floored".

The finished product

(I am sorry it is sideways, I didn't want to drop $30 bucks on new software to edit it right now, so if you get a kink in your neck from watching it, send me an IOU for a neck rub.)


The Good Fairy wishes to thank her accomplices in Pocatello who pulled off getting my parents out of the house for the weekend- even with a snowstorm looming- which is a major feat considering my father and his hatred of driving in the snow. Those "magical charms" known as grandchildren work wonders.You guys are the best; we couldn't have done it without you!

A disclaimer to the Parke Family in Denver- The Good Fairy's male accomplices did not, will not, and have not EVER worn tights in the accomplishing of their good deeds.

The Christmas card

I have to preface this post by making it clear that rarely can I blog in "real time". There is always something else that needs to be done, the words for the experience aren't there, or like this particular experience, it wasn't finished yet. I started this post in September, but couldn't finish it because it wasn't finished with me... until last week. I was finally able to 'record' it today.

Company was coming. That meant one thing… house cleaning. And lots of it!

A prominent feature in this deep cleaning whirlwind always includes de-cluttering the desk. I have an image to uphold and I certainly didn’t want my guests to think my desk always looks like the paper shredder threw up on it. So I sorted, filed, and threw away, and somewhere between unused, expired coupons and statements of all sorts, it showed up again.

A Christmas card.

Addressed and stamped.

Unmailed and unopened.

I come across this same card every time I clean the desk and each and every time it goes back there to be dealt with at another time. This ritual has continued for the last twelve months. I can’t throw it away. There isn’t anywhere to file it. I can’t even send it this year. The addressee, my Grandma Viola, died the morning I was to mail it.

My mom phoned me the night before to let me know that Viola had suffered a stroke. She told me that she was still lucid, but she was having a difficult time eating. I’m not dumb, I know what those words really meant…Viola wasn’t doing well and her time left here was short.

I knew that her 93 year old body was failing, as we had visited her earlier in the year and I found her dramatically changed from our last visit. I left the retirement home trying to stave off the flood of tears until I was in the car and my face hidden from the kids. I failed miserably- the dam broke. Luckily, Richard explained to the inquiries of”Why is mom crying?” that it was hard for me to see my grandma so weak, frail, and bedbound. But I knew it was more than that- much more. I knew that this was the last time I would see her in this life.

Even with such knowledge, I had been in denial and figured there was always more time. Now with a phone call, I was facing the reality that time had run out.

I felt badly, that as always, I was behind and hadn’t even gotten her Christmas card mailed yet. Mom said it would be good to send it anyway and perhaps, it would get there in time. So I gathered the card and a family picture, I addressed the envelope, but I couldn’t write the sentiments in the card. Words failed me. How do you adequately express to someone who is dying how much you love them and what the part they’ve played in your life has meant to you? Words were not enough, so I went to bed determined to try again after a night’s sleep.

Moring came and so did the words. But even as I penned those words, walked the card to the mailbox, and put up the red flag, I knew. It was too late. Another phone call from my mom confirmed it. I retrieved the card from the mailbox and laid it in its final resting place on the desk.

Arrangements were made and so was our trip to LaGrande for the funeral.

I have never been one to deal well with death. My emotions run close to the surface and I become the leaky faucet you can’t fix. I don’t cry for those who have passed; I know they have been welcomed into loving arms. It’s the loving arms left behind which are now empty, the great-grand children that are too small to remember the loved one that filled the void, the absence that must be endured until we meet again, that is what I cry for.

I did pretty well at the funeral. I held the tears mostly at bay, forming a headache from the built up pressure, until the reading of Viola’s life sketch. As my mom read about the grandma I had know my whole life, I realized I never really knew her at all. It is a devastating feeling when you learn more about a loved one at their funeral listening to their life sketch, than you did from visiting with them in life. I didn’t know she played basketball, that she worked in a bank, or that she loved to fish the lakes of my beautiful British Columbia.

I simply didn’t know and I hated myself for it.

Grandma Viola is my step-grandma, but since she married my grandpa before I was born she was the only grandma on my mom’s side I’d ever known. She was loveable, quick to laugh, and always had a candy dish filled to the brim, waiting to rot our teeth out and spoil us senseless- just what grandmas are supposed to be. I never felt like I was a ‘step’ down from her “normal” grandkids. She was always interested in how we were doing, what we were doing, she even asked questions about boys, and always wanted to see my latest dance or gymnastic routine. Sure, she lived 8 hours away from us, but we visited once or twice a year, corresponded through letters and phone calls, and I always felt connected. She loved me just like a grandma should. She loved me… that was the one thing I knew for sure- Grandma Viola loved me.

Sitting in the chapel enduring the remainder of the funeral, as I thought about the things I had just learned, I wished for 10 minutes, just 10 more minutes to visit with her, ask the questions I now desperately wanted answered; learn the most important things about her I should know. And now every time the card makes its way to the top of the pile I call a desk, the same wish passes through my mind; last week’ s de-cluttering session was no different, but the answer was.

As softly as the falling snow that flitted outside my window the words fell into my conscious thinking.

“You already know.”

As I stopped to ponder what these words meant, I found that perhaps my Christmas card wasn’t my last expression of love to my grandma, but hers to me.

The most important thing I should know was that she loved me.

And now there are no questions left unanswered.

Digging

A depiction of one of the hundreds of reasons why I love my brothers....

Nose pickin' ipod lovers- Nathan, Dan, & Dad

...they are so photogenic.

Poky Vacation

Last weekend we were invited to enjoy a mini vacation in Pocatello, Idaho. You may not think that Pocatello sounds like a premiere vacation spot, but that is only because you don't know the awesome family we have living there.

My beautiful niece Aubrie had turned 8 and her baptism was scheduled for Saturday. Her parents, wanting all of their families on both sides to be there, had sent everyone a prior invitation to come and enjoy the weekend and celebrate with Aubrie. Knowing that we all couldn't stay at their house, they in all their generosity put everyone up in the Marriot Suites.
Our particular suite had a kitchen, complete with dishwasher, two bedrooms, and three TVs.

My kids thought they had died and gone to heaven.

Ashton enjoying 1 king bed.

Dalllin enjoying the other.

Benjamin loved the fold out couch.

Daddy & Emma snuggled in the chair.

Here's a rundown on the rest of the festivities...

There was golfing to start it off. Sorry, there are no golfing pics because we didn't get there in time. But honestly, we really suck at golf, so it was just as well.

There was lots of visiting.

A lot of eating.

We attended the baptism.

We celebrated birthdays & Aubrie's baptism.

We watched Landon (our nephew & #23) play the position of quarterback in his football game.

Pop Marlin snoozed.

We went swimming.

There was plenty of horsing around and goofing off.

We went to the movie.

(It was a cute show based on one of my favorite books as a child by the same name.)

But most of all we did what families like to do best......just be TOGETHER!

Dan, Natalie, & Nathan. (Andrew not pictured. We hope he and Vicki can make it next time.)

Many thanks again to Dan and Shaleece, for such a fabulous weekend and great get away!

Turtle Cookies and a Winner

When I was a little girl, my mom would make my brothers and me these special cookies. We called them turtle cookies. They are almost brownie like and since they are cooked on the waffle iron they get that great criss-cross pattern similar to a pattern you might find on the shell of a turtle. I loved them as a child and enjoy making them now for my own children. I think that they are very yummy, fun, and easy to make. That’s why I am providing you with the recipe at the end of this post, so you can try them and see for yourselves. If you do, let me know what you think.

There is also another reason for posting about turtle cookies. I promised the reader who submitted the best caption for the picture of Ben and his running medal, a plate of these delicious chocolate delights! So the unbiased judges have spoken and I took Diana her plate of yummy chocolate turtles. Here is the picture again with the winning caption. Also a big thanks to all of you for playing along!

"All that running, and this is all I got?"

Waffle Turtle Cookies

1/2 C melted butter/margarine
3/4 C Sugar
3 1/2 TBS. Cocoa
2 eggs, beaten
1 Cup Flour
1 tsp. Vanilla
Mix together in the above order. Pour or spoon a small amount of batter shaped like turtles onto heated waffle iron. Don't get them too close. Cook about 1 minute +/- depending on your individual waffle maker. Frost with store bought chocolate frosting (or your favorite recipe) while warm as you continue to cook the others, if you want. Just keep a close eye on the ones cooking.

Pictures are worth a 1000 words

Ahhhh....to have a good camera and know how to take really great pictures! How would it be?
The professional pictures from our races in Pocatello came back last week and since they were free to download (another reason to run the races there), I did them all.
Here are a few of my favorites.

If you want to play along, leave me a comment telling me what you would put as the caption under the last picture of Ben. There just might be a plate of turtle cookies for the caption my kids, the unbiased judges, like best.

Dallin watching big brother, Ashton finish his race.

Ashton trekking along.

Ben with his best pal and race buddy, Daddy.

Go Dallin!

Dallin in the 0.2 kids race.

My nephew Hayden, smokin the competition. The man behind him was the race organizer who ran the 1.5 and Hayden left him in the dust!

Glad to be finishing and seeing familiar faces!

My niece, Aubrie (in bib #1232) finishing strong in the kids race.

My awesome big brother, Dan, finishing in 10th overall, 1st in his age group.

My absolute favorite picture! Ashton going strong for the finish.

Maysa concentrating on every step!

The sister I never had until she married my brother, Shaleece, the best motivator and running inspiration, making it across the finish line 1st in her age group!

( YOU FILL IN THE BLANK)

What would you say about that little guy swinging his medal?

A Family Affair

I have been really looking forward to Labor Day weekend. My oldest brother, Dan, lives in Pocatello and he and his wife, Shaleece, had invited us to come up there and join in the fun of the Pocatello Marathon weekend. So we packed the Uplander and headed for Poky. None of us attempted the marathon or even the ½, but we did have entries in the 10K, 1.5 miles, and the .2 mile.

This weekend was to be a first for all of us. It was my brother’s 1st race. It was Shaleece’s and my 1st 10K. I was finally going to get to run with my kids. And my nieces and nephew were participating in the races for the first time too.


It was a really fun race. Lots of support, aide stations, and freebies! It was also my hardest, from both the physical and mental aspect. I had experienced some IT band irritation last week. If you don’t know what IT band irritation is, it basically, means I could hardly walk after running. I wondered if I should even attempt to run the race or try selling my bib number. I was sick. I wanted to run this race so badly! I saw my Dr. who gave me specific stretches for the IT band and also suggested I see a chiropractor. Turns out I was out of alignment. So after 2 hrs of being snapped, crackled, and popped back into shape and given instructions how to roll myself on a $38 foam roller, I was declared fit to race!


The morning of the race I stretched and rolled myself before heading down to the pickup spot to ride the bus to the start line. I had butterflies in my stomach. It seemed like that bus ride took forever and went too far. I kept thinking “I hope they know we’re only doing the 10K and not the 1/2.” I was relieved when the bus made a loop and headed back towards town.



We arrived at the starting line with about 10 minutes to spare. 124 race participants, 2 porta-potties, and 10 minutes…. I decided I would just have to hold it. It is usually just nerves anyways. I was concerned about my leg more, so I spent the time stretching. I told Dan and Shaleece, that I was just going to take it easy and just try to finish in under an hour. I knew I could easily do that, but secretly I wanted to finish in less than 55 minutes.


The gun sounded and we were off.

Dan was like white lightning and I easily lost sight of him. Shaleece kept turning around to see if I was ok. I told her, “Just go. I’m taking it easy.”

It was easy and I felt great, until mile 2. That’s when I felt that familiar painful twinge on the outside of my knee. All worries about my bladder situation disappeared and I knew I had a different problem to worry about. On top of that, I needed to slow down even more. UGH! I kept trying to think about the positive things, like “At least, you made up the hill before it started.” But the negative kept pushing its way into my head. I was struggling….more mentally than physically. I grabbed my cell phone and called Richard. I was probably the only runner on the course talking on a cell phone while they were still running, but it was the only thing I could think of to do.

Richard answered and asked me why I was calling him when I was supposed to be running a race. I stated that I was running, but the twinge in my knee was back. That’s when I started to cry. I wasn’t in a lot of pain, I knew that, along with the stiffness, would come later.

I told him, “I was scared.” I was scared I wouldn’t be able to finish the race. I was scared I would always have this problem whenever I ran. I was afraid I would lose the newfound friend I had in running.

It felt good just to admit it.

I told him, “Just talk to me.” So he did.

I can’t really tell you what he said, it was just that calm, friendly, reassuring voice on the other end of the line that settled my nerves, calmed my fears.

So I kept running and at mile 3.5 the twinge stopped. I passed the wall and I could finally run the way the rest of my body wanted to. I called Richard again and told him not to worry. I was ok. He told me he was there and waiting for me. Eventually, I saw the finish line ahead and pushed it hard. And there he was right before the finish line. The man with the voice on the other end of the line, smiling and taking pictures, along with the 7 children he was put in charge of getting to the race bright and early. I crossed the line at 56:54.

I had made it.

I was victorious. WE were victorious. I couldn’t have done it without him. Not just that day, but everyday he stays with the kids while I train or race. I wish I could have given him even just an ounce of the satisfaction I was feeling. He deserved it too. I hope he knows just how much all he does means to me.

I hadn’t made my secret goal of finishing in less than 55 minutes, but I did better than I thought and even placed 3rd in my age group. Dan and Shaleece were the stars of the day each taking 1st place in their age division. Dan even placed 10th for the whole 10K, pretty good for his 1st race!

We then hurried the kids to their races. Dallin, Benjamin (along with Daddy), Aubrie, and Maysa, all ran the 0.2 and had a great time. Dallin even placed 4th and Maysa found her competitive spirit when other kids would try to pass her she wouldn’t have it and sped up. It was fun to see all their little personalities and how they reacted during and after the race.

Next, Ashton and my nephew, Hayden, ran in the 1.5 mile Fun-a-thon. They started and in no time, Hayden was loping across the finish line taking 1st for the race and boys division. I think he had a stride and a half against the rest of the racers. It pays to be tall with long legs… a feeling I’ll never know. Ashton followed about 3 minutes later taking 3rd in the boys division. He got slowed down by a wood chip that had stowed itself away in his shoe from the playground only to be jostled lose when he started to run. Poor guy had a sore toe, but kept on truckin!

I was so proud of all of us! And like I said, it was a really fun race. Plus, it's the only race that I know of, that when you pick up your race packet and duffle bag of goodies they also give you….a bag of Idaho potatoes! What else?