Friday Night Dates.

For no reason in particular, our family has recently been developing a pattern of going on "family dates" every Friday night. I think it initially started because I have a strong moral opposition to doing any cooking on Fridays, and has become amplified by a strong desire to unwind after a week of craziness.

I'd like to say this was a plan, or family goal...but, no...it has just happened. I'm not anywhere close to being "with it" enough to have family goals.

Earlier this week Blair forwarded an email to me mentioning that the MLS cup was making a stop in Bountiful. We decided to take the kids to see it (considering we have had no other kind of experience with a championship team in Utah), and thought it might be a good opportunity to document that we try to do fun and cheap things on occasion with our kids.

We brought Emily, one of Ab's Bff's from school, and her very cute 5th Grade brother Zac.

(Whom for future note...Ab tried her hardest to impress ALL NIGHT LONG. Because you know, 5th grade boys totally love knock knock jokes and Miley Cyrus. In his defense, he was extremely kind and a great sport.

PPS...don't tell Ab I've mentioned this or you'll be killed.)

We came home and attempted to relocate our brains to a warm and sunny climate by eating tacos, guacamole, and chips...and drinking smoothies.

And, yes...I broke my rule about cooking...
But, only because I really wanted to pretend I was on a beach in Mexico.
I seem to re-create this night once a year for my kids...when Winter has just lasted a tad longer than my psyche can take.


You can see, Ab was really into the spirit of things...
Either that, or she really wanted to show off her swimsuit and sock combo for her friend's brother:) I love her innocence.

Crap.

Not really Crap...
only kind-of.
You see, Deak is now crawling for real.
In fact, we had to cave and put up a gate this weekend.

In the past week or two...
*He has crawled over to and attempted to drink my diet coke. Which is a big problem. The last time this kid had coke, he was up and partying hard until 1 in the morning. (A certain rap song comes to mind..."and the b@*!! ain't leavin 'till six in the mornin'...or maybe that's just me).
*He has crawled over to and stolen my fritos, and I really like Fritos.
*He has crawled over to and chewed on a VCR cord (unplugged at least...not that the hair this boy has would cause you to think otherwise) for who knows how long while I showered.
*He has crawled across my bedroom into the bathroom where I get ready in the mornings and literally screamed at me with a disgusted look...only to crawl back across the room, take a seat in front of the TV and finish watching his show. (I assume he was pissed I turned on the blow dryer and he couldn't hear Gabba anymore.)
And the worst...
*Now...he crawls to my bedside and yells at me to wake up.
"AHHHH!"
Gone are the days of 6am wake up calls postponed by a few Gabba episodes and a stationary child.
I really, really, love the crawling...in fact, I'll admit that a day has not gone by that I haven't still felt my eyes well up just thinking of it.

But mobility has decreased my ability to be lazy.
Hence...."Crap."

Happy Thoughts.

I had to do something last night that was pretty terrifying for me.

It was one of those times I actually had to put to practice some of the techniques I whole-heartily believe in and teach to cute little bodies in my schools.

I had to breath deeply and consciously choose to think of things that would bring me happiness.

I had to do it for forty-five minutes.

Which, is a really long time...when you really want something to be over.

It was funny that during this situation, my thoughts permeated around the very same people my life tends to revolve around...

Thought #1

This face.

Abby took first place out of eight competitive cheer teams in her division this past Saturday.

Her first, First Place...ever.

The feeling I felt as she and her team won, was better than any feeling I have ever experienced winning in my life.

It was better because it was her.

She is becoming one of my closest friends, and I am content to live watching her grow and learn and experience all these crazy emotions life throws at us.

I was so proud.

Thought #2

This face.

I am still not over Deak crawling. I simply cannot get enough of watching it. As we sat and watched the Superbowl with family on Sunday, I enticed him to crawl to me across the entire room with a Texas Sheetcake brownie.

Boy...did that kid move.

(Not saying I wouldn't do the same.)

And, then he ate and clapped for himself for quite a while.

I was so proud.

I find it quite ironic that although I've desperately needed an outlet for myself (which I've found with running), when my priorities settle and I am forced to compete within my thoughts for happiness...they win.

My family takes the cake. They are my happy place. All three of them.

I would give up anything in this world to keep it that way forever.

"Run Forest, Run."

I could come up with several parallels between different lines of the movie Forest Gump and my life. I survived a couple of junior high years with an ominous "Jeee...ny" making its' daily appearance either directly or indirectly in several conversations. Thank goodness the craze eventually died down and my nickname progressed into becoming "House of Pain" or "Payne." Those were much more tolerable on the teenage ego.

Lately, as I've persistently stuck to my running routine that I began five weeks ago, I've found myself repeating the infamous "Run Forrest, Run" line in my head. Funny...yes...because I am sure if you've seen me on the side of the road barely breathing/moving, I would definitely bare a strong resemblance to Tom Hank's famous character. On a different level, I've realized the persistance this line has had in my brain may show a deeper connection to my most present motivation to run. This motivation is coming from a place I've shoved to the back of the list...and left there...for a long time.

I don't like to fail, or be criticized, or do anything wrong...basically. Not too much to ask, right? To preserve my pride (whatever is left of it) and general anxiety-based nature I generally choose to stick with tasks I can be successful at. I know my strengths, and choose to use them. I can recall doing this as far back as elementary school. I have never been close friends with the idea of taking risks. What a boring life...

Hence...the running program.
During a much-needed conversation with a good friend recently, we were discussing the complacency of the routine we get involved in as mothers. The laundry, dishes, and homework yield high rewards; the problem being that the rewards are not seen immediately. More often than not, for years. Sure, there are daily moments of love and progress, but that intrinsic feeling of worth is not always clearly validated.
We then went on to discuss why running has become, at certain times, so important in our lives. Yes, I would like to drop another ten pounds, develop a stronger core and begin to have something that may resemble muscle definition.

But, this time that is not what is driving me to get on my shoes and go.

It is the progress I'm seeing very clearly and visibly as I monitor it on the little screen in front of my treadmill. It is the sleep I've been getting, and the breathing that has felt deeper and richer than it has in years. It is the internal gratification of seeing a goal become closer to reality. It is the endorphin rush that my brain and heart have needed for some time. Quite frankly, it is the money I am probably saving in weekly therapy.
The activity and the reward are connected to ME, and I am in complete control of the results. Not my cute kids or family or friends. ME.

I ran two miles without stopping last night for the first time in my entire life. I then walked for a couple minutes and continued to run intervals for another mile, running as fast as an eight minute mile at some points.
Best run so far...
I felt proud, and I slept good.
Some nights I have not been able to put on my shoes and run until 9:30. These are the nights that I would have easily and justifiably rationalized away in my past - but, not anymore. I am learning now, those are the nights I need to run the most.
I may look like Forrest, and I may not go far (yet).
But, I have learned a few things these past three and half years; the most important being that it's okay if things take a little longer...and look a little less than perfect...
the reward is just that much sweeter.

...and he won't stop...

This boy...

He doesn't stop. Ever.

He continues to learn, grow and amaze me.

We've focused much of our attention over the past couple of months on getting Deak accustomed to using his walker. It has been fantastic; and although he tends to meander around looking at lights and making kissy faces...he has gotten pretty strong.

The only problem has been his "not yet discovered" ability of climbing into the walker himself.

The result being that the walker has worked great, but still hasn't quite provided the level of independence I knew he was craving.

A few weeks ago, on a Sunday evening, we were sitting and relaxing together in our family room. Deak was sitting and playing happily on the floor; rolling when necessary. I looked down because I had noticed he wanted a toy placed a few feet away from him and the reach of his arms. Deak then got onto all fours and crawled to it. Just. like. that.

"Blair...um...did Deak just crawl to his toy?" I asked in a sincere tone. I genuinely thought my eyes were deceiving me.

"Ya, I think so," Blair said with the same uncertainty.

That's when the games began.

Abby and I placed several of his favorite toys all around the room ...only to watch him crawl to get them. We cheered and clapped and cried. All together. We were all so proud. Deak's smile was immeasurable.

Mine may have been too.

I did not know how long this skill would take to "stick" for Deak. I was so surprised by it's appearance, that it has taken me a week or two to get over the shock that is actually happening. Mind you, I have not had a crawling child in the home for over seven years.
Seven Years.

And I have wanted, and prayed and hoped beyond belief this day would come for my Deak.

Most parents wait for six, seven, or even 12 months...

I've waited three and a half years.

Three and half years of wondering. Three and a half years of guessing which item Deak was describing with his limited vocabulary/screaming methods.

But, even more so...Deak has waited three and a half years.

Three and half years of seeing the world move around him, and wondering and hoping and praying that one day this world would become his to discover.

Can you imagine the patience this boy has? The faith it must take to understand that although his body and brain work together at a different pace...it is a pace he has accepted and will work his butt off to push through.

He is a light through which I see things clearly.

The world that I think is so hard sometimes just pales in comparison to what he must feel each day.

Just to breathe... just to move his legs.

So...all those therapists and doctors who doubted this boy would move, use both hemispheres of his brain, or progress past being "profoundly retarded."...You can shove it.

My Deak is moving forward.

(Pictures taken the first time the toy cabinet had been open and "accessible" for him. Once he realized I had opened it, he laughed out loud and crawled across the room. Only to pick the Plex Gabba toy that I knew he would want anyway...:)

If I had...

I hate that song, "If I had a Million Dollars."
It's cheesy and it pisses me off every time I hear it.
I know, I know, it's a song...but really, a goat (or whatever dumb thing they say)?
I heard this song on the radio yesterday and quickly changed the channel. Unfortunately, I let it ruin my mood for a few minutes.

I know money is not important, but it's necessary. I know I have more than I need at times, but I also know that there have been times I haven't had enough. I don't need a million dollars, and I actually don't really want it. I just want enough money to do some good and feel peace.
I read all these lame articles on MSN money or whatever, giving rules and advice for governing ones' money - they piss me off too. They mention how "easy" it is to save. You just "do it." Well...they forget to mention that sometimes ones' best intentions and years of college education don't always account for all of life's surprises.

I've tried my best. We are working so hard. But, it's not enough. And, I am so tired.
I think the "bigger purpose" behind this economy for my little family has been clear. We don't need any more "things." Sure, I like nice jeans and cute shoes. I enjoy being able to support my kids with their activities...but, I don't want the fancy house and car. I just don't care about them. I really don't. I don't even think about those things anymore. I just want to be comfortable enough to go to the grocery store without worrying if my debit card is going to be denied.

Really and truly...if I had a million dollars...I wouldn't buy the house on the hill. I might upgrade the car a bit (it's nearing 90,000 miles), but nothing super fancy. I would pay off debt and go back to school. I would buy nice gifts for my family and friends on their birthdays. I would pull out my credit card and give money freely to organizations when catastrophes occur. I would donate enough money to begin a research project specifically designed to help children with Ring 18 syndrome (the first of it's kind), begin a monthly group in Davis County for parents of special needs children which would include dinner/childcare, and open up a private practice/respite for children who have parents with addiction problems.
(*Then I might go to Anthropologie and allow myself the opportunity to buy a "Full-Priced" item. Wouldn't that be a dream?)

I am not a saint, and I will never pretend to be. I know that my list, in reality, would include a few more "out to dinner" splurges, and GapKids clothes purchases than mentioned.
But, really...I don't think my dreams are bad.

Now...I just need to change my attitude so I can actually work to put those dreams into action, rather than whine and mope about life's hand that has been dealt. Heaven knows it could most definitely be worse.

A Whole New World.

I have a ridiculously low amount of ability in any arena that involves movement of my body.I can do the Roger Rabbit quite well...but only because I practiced for a good portion of my third grade school year. In fact, if I'm being completely honest, I have never, not once in my life, been able to touch my toes.

When I was in eighth grade, I begged my mom to sign me up for a tumbling class...not because I really wanted to, but because all the girls who were cute could at least do a cartwheel. I went to class, and was rated and placed with other students based on my ability level.

I then returned the next week, to discover I had been placed in a class with developmentally disabled teenagers.

This is not a joke. It is serious.

So, I guess, I am mentioning all of this as an explanation to the amount of awe I hold for those people who can jump, move their arms and flip. For...I am NOT one of them. Not even close.

Abby had her first competitive cheerleading competition today. She has begged to do this ever since she began watching her Aunt Maddi perform. I attempted to put it off as long as I could...but, Abby can be persuasive.

She LOVES it.
Actually she said today, she loves cheerleading and Christmas. (I am not quite sure where I fit into that equation, but whatever.)
Abby's team placed 2nd (out of six) in their very first competition together as a team. Most of the girls on the team have never competed before, as they are all pretty young. Abby's cute coach was so excited she was nearly crying:)

I am not sure I will ever understand how these cute girls do it, but I know my daughter lights up with confidence when she is performing. Ab is so excited for class and especially competitions...that she can hardly sleep for a week prior. It makes me so happy to see her enjoy something so much, nearly happy enough to try to forget how much this love of Ab's is going to end up costing.

Again...in awe of the flexibility.

Their cute pre-cheer cheer.

Ab is on top and in the middle...the ending pose/stunt.
The mad chaos of pre-pubescent and teenage girls dancing to Lady Gaga and Miley before the awards. Just for one second...imagine all the high-pitched screaming.
Deafening.
Ab and her good friend Kennedy
With Emma and Sadie

Really...I am so proud. I bit half of my nails off in suspense, so I guess I am becoming "one of those moms."

Stay tuned to see if I will wear my "Cheerz Mom" shirt next year.

Not that I'd actually admit that here.