Sunny&80…

Knee socks.

I always knew they had secret powers.  Every time I run with them on, I feel faster.  And lets face it, hot pink knee socks  make you smile.  They just do.

So,when my little girl asked me for a pair of new running socks…ones that come up to her knees…I happily obliged by door-busting some Hello Kitty ones for her.

“Mommy!  You got me knee high new running socks!  HUUUUUUHHH!!!! And they are purple with Hello Kitty on them?!?!?!?! Mom!  You are the best!!!”

Knee sock power.

The shoes and socks flew off in a scurry and the new socks went on.  Off we went to the HS conference track meet.  As much as I wanted her to love being in her dance tutu’s the most, I have to admit…seeing her decked out in running gear is pretty cute.  It’s because of the massive smile she plasters on her face when she has it on.

10 year from now, she’s going to be telling me to stop trying to act like running is my sport.  I’m telling you!  It’s coming.  Volunteering to help coach was a good call.  Brianne looks up to these distance runners like they are super heroes…larger than life.  Running cool down laps with the 2 milers all decked out in those new knee socks?  Look out.  She’s in heaven.  It’s impacting her for life.

No one is ever going to believe I didn’t push her into running.  And, maybe, by exposing her to it, I inadvertently have.  But her young love for the sport has reaffirmed my own.  Little Coach.  She’s been so upset with me this spring for not being more involved with track.  Silly me, I thought she might want to spend that time playing t-ball or playing with her pre-school friends.  (No to mention being a little worried about her wandering over towards the flying shot put…)

As a parent, I’m constantly trying to make sure I do right by my kids.  Teach them ABC’s.  Get them in pre-school.  Take them to story time…play group…dance class…expose them to the arts… pick up another language…making sure their ready to compete with the rest of the world.  But, all that work I do trying to expose Brianne to everything under the sun doesn’t hold a candle to her witnessing first hand what I-and other people- are passionate about.  Despite her occasional toddler tantrum, coaching as been an amazing beacon for both of us.  I need it just as much as she does.

There’s something scary about becoming involved in sports.  You become attached.  To the athletes..the coaches…the adrenalin…and life lasting friendships form along the way.  But, fear means ‘go.’  It means you’re probably barking up the right tree.  As scary as it is to risk my kids interrupting something important, or distracting the ‘runners’ from focusing on their race…or taking my kids out of toddler activities to devote more time…someone big keeps telling me to quit worrying about it.  So, they’ll be ‘Coach’s kids.’

Watching Brianne do ‘knees up, head down, on my toes,’ sprints across the locker room, one of the high school runners said to me,

“I like when Brianne is around before the race…it makes me relax and smile.  It helps calm my nerves.  And when I see her cheering for me, I think to myself…’I can’t run bad in front of Bri!”

Brianne.  Little Runner.  Little Coach.  Big inspiration.  Even to her little sister, who now chants “I go running!” when she sees Brianne putting her running shoes on.

I’ve always marveled at successful people who’ve known what they have wanted to do since they were toddlers.  Why do I feel like my own daughter is one of those people?

Tutu’s say ‘what’?!?!’

Happy Strides.

Megs

Ha ha!  “That’s Disgusting.”  That could be about anything, right?  Especially when I have a 4 and almost 2 year old that do something ‘disgusting’ more than once, daily.

My 22 month old says the funniest stuff I’ve ever heard in my life.  From the time she wakes up in the morning and immediately demands a “NINA!!!!!” (banana), to asking me for a “juke box” at snack time, a typical day with her is filled with hilarious toddler typos.  But her favorite phrase right now is, “Ew!  That’s disgusting!”  And the word ‘disgusting’ comes out all wrong….more like “disxgusxtig-a.”  Her sister, Brianne, and I are sometimes the only ones that know what she’s saying.  I’m quite sure of that.

So every time Lo has a ‘disgusting’ diaper or Brianne picks a booger out of her nose and wipes it on me, her little sister, her car seat, herself, her blanket, the couch….wherever….Lo says…”Ew, Beee….that’s -isgusteng.”

She’s also the first to call herself on something gross, too.  When she let’s out a burp at the table during breakfast, lunch, dinner…snack…eating fruit snacks in the shopping cart at the store…wherever…she’s the first to excuse herself.

“Essscussse me!  I faaahhhttt!  That’s -issssgusstengggg…..”  Good manners, right?  If we could only get burp and fart straightened around…can’t have it all, though, right?

Lo saw an enormous dead carp…belly up on our beach (ha ha…makes me want to sing the Pat Dailey song…)…and ran to me out of pure terror.  It was covered in flys, and her little mind processed that into something horrific.  “MOM!” She ran over and hugged my leg, then looked up and said, “Mommy that is so disguxsteng.”  Yep.  It was.  Now every trip the beach that includes sight of a fish…dead or alive…rotted to bones or freshly landed…we get the lo-down.  “THATS IS DISGUXSTENG!”

Ahhh, the things kids say.  It keeps me laughing, that’s for sure.  Like listening to Brianne (4) try to ask for ‘flip flop fruit snacks’ to eat after nap-time one afternoon.  Caught up in her own little tongue twister…she trailed off into full-belly laughter half way through…as if it the difficulty of the phrase crept up and tickled her from behind.

“Bee…thats-dust-is-so-siweee…” giggled Lo.

Lauren’s favorite is her Tinkerbell doll.  Drags her around everywhere, sans detachable wings.  “Tink-o-bell!”  The middle is a blur of mushed syllables, but she knows we know what she means.  Even when yelling it hysterically at the top of her lungs…wrapped up in a tragic outburst of sad panic after big sister dipped Tinkerbell’s head in paint.  Poor Tinkerbell.  In an effort to rescue Tinkerbell from her plight, Lo swooped her up and rushed her over to her baby swing outside.  Then, she just sat there talking quietly to her doll.  After a few minutes, its as if she realized the paint was not going to dry off and disappear, and she came sobbing to me as if her little world had melted down.

After I cleaned the paint off of Tink’s head, little Lo clutched onto her.  Big hugs for “Tink–ooooo—belllllll……,” even sopping wet.

The unconditional love my children possess floors me.  Even through broken up words and barely translatable phrases, they have no problems communicating their love.  Whether it’s Bri buckling Kermit’s seat-belt before taking him for a ride on her bike, or Lo shouting an “Oh, No!” of concern every time her Tink-o-bell hit’s the ground…they are constantly making sure everyone’s ok around the house.  Even me.

If they detect through a mangled facial expression while stretching that my back hurts a lot, they’ll rush to my aid. “Oh..no….Mommy…..” Lo will say with her bottom lip poked out, in a very high voice, heavy with concern.  Brianne will just smother me with hugs.  Such concern.  Such sweetness.

It’s just too bad that part of it all doesn’t translate over to the patrons at Target who become lucky enough to breeze by our cart.  Shopping time= snack time for my kids.  That means all in the vicinity become fully aware of how the snacks are being digested.

“Ups!  ‘cuse me!  I fahhttt!”

“That-is-so-disgusxteng!!!”

….followed by trails of laughter….

Happy Toddler Translating….

Megs

On the way to dance class blaring Justin Bieber’s “Oh, Baby,” and yelling it at the top of our lungs…we get there and my 4 year old asks…”Where’d she go, Mommy?”

There something about listening to teeny bopper music with my little girls that makes me feel like a kid again, myself.  I revert immediately back to my boom box blaring self.  NKOTB pumping out at the highest possible decibel until the speakers were permanently ‘scratchy.’

So, when my 4 year old asked me to play some Justin Bieber, my answer was a resounded yes.  I had been waiting for her to ask for two reasons…one, I love Justin Bieber.  Two, I need an excuse to blare the car stereo and have dance parties in the kitchen.

Knowing there were only fun times to be had here, I was blown away anyway…by my 22 month old.  As we are jamming in the car, singing “Baby, Baby…” at the top of our lungs…I hear a third voice.  It’s Lo.  Joining the party.  She joins in for the last “Ohhhhh!” Priceless.

Dancing around like crazies in the kitchen, shoulder shrugging and jumping up and down…ahhhh…a piece of childhood relived.

It’s in these moments of life that I realize everything all at once.  How blessed I am, how fun this is, how full circle life is…and just how badly I want to hit the pause button.

My little dance party girl

It’ll sound silly to half of you, but this is my last year with a true ‘toddler’ schedule.  Next fall, Brianne will be in school five mornings a week.  The year after that, Lo will start pre-school and Brianne will enter all day Kindergarten.  I knew these first years would be fleeting, but knowing that upfront doesn’t seem to be  enough to shore up the ball of tears that well up in my throat when I picture my kids in school all day.  No more shopping buddies, play groups, library story times…it’s going to be tough to let go of.

Though I always look back at the ‘baby’ and ‘toddler’ stages my kids have gone through with a tinge of nostalgia, the ‘next’ things they do are always just as great.  But letting go of ‘toddler’ all together?

I will be that mom.  The one that will wave goodbye with a smile when the Kindergarten bus comes, and bawl my eyes out when it leaves.  My babies…

They can have all the Justin Bieber dance parties they want.   Right now, it’s pure innocence.  Pretty soon, they’re going to understand what he’s singing about, and I might not be so quick to oblige.  Ugh…I’ll probably cry then, too.  LOL.

Happy “Bieber Fever!”

Megs