What just happened?

End-of-school, getting ready for a family reunion, attending said family reunion, and sprinkle all of that with a healthy dose of riding my bike as much as possible to get ready for the big ride we have planned for this weekend. Whew.

last day of preschool

Another school year has come to a close and the kids were positively giddy at the thought of lazy days in messy rooms and in front of the television. Dream shattered!! Mwahahaha. Ok, so I let them have one lazy day, but then we were heading to Park City, Utah, for a family reunion where they stayed up late and ate junk food and it's quite possible the girls never took an actual shower...I'll call it my version of camping.

roadtrippin'

a move is on. don't even try to ask them a question.

We enjoyed how beautiful and green everything was. It was especially fun to wake up early with Joel a couple mornings and head out on our bikes. On the first morning, he was about 20 yards in front of me when I noticed a bird off to the left begin to take off. I could tell from the way it moved its wings that it was a big bird and I had the fleeting thought, "What is that, an eagle or something?" And then. THEN. It soared in front of Joel, who later claimed it was so close he could have punched it in the eye. From my vantage point, this bird's wingspan was about the size of Joel. It was breathtaking. And a little nervewracking, as I envisioned it sinking its talons into my husband and whisking him away. A few seconds passed, and suddenly Joel was yelling, "Did you SEE that?!" How could I miss it? We later learned that there are quite a few eagles up in that canyon and, yes, this was a brown eagle. I generally hate birds, but I reserve that disgust for small birds. Eagles and falcons I can totally respect. Also, flamingos, but we didn't see any of those.

Chalk Creek Canyon or, as we now call it, Eagle Canyon

While in Park City, we went to an aquatic center there with a waterslide about two stories high. Gemma took one look at that thing, pointed her little finger at it, and casually said, "I'm going on that." Um, really? Joel went down with her and she loved it, but got out of the water and said, "And now I'm going by myself." Oh reeeeeeeeally.

Not only did she go down it, she proceeded to spend the greater part of the next three hours going down that thing. It was pretty funny to watch her, her face a mixture of excitement and fear. She'd get to the bottom, climb out, and then punch the air while squealing, "WooHOO YES! I'm amazing!" I think we all need to do that a bit more.

napping like a lady

The reunion was wonderful and we ate some amazing and delicious food. Katherine and her husband made delicious lasagna (three versions) with a secret layer of pesto in there. Note to self: try this. Ryan made a couple batches of homemade ice cream and I adored the strawberry banana way more than I could have imagined. As he pulled the paddle out of his gallon-and-a-half ice cream maker, he handed it to me and said, "Can you take this?" I beheld the pink creamy mixture beginning to drip from it and nodded, "Yes. Yes I can. Right to my mouth." Delicious. And then Terry rigged up the grills to form a make-shift smoker and made baby back ribs. I think there were probably 200 of them or something. Plenty for everyone. I love it when there's plenty for everyone. And then Anne brought some green salsa that has kind of changed my world. Let me put it this way: We got home late Thursday night, and Friday morning I was at the grocery store, picking up tomatillos and poblanos and anaheims and preparing to make my own batch. Eat with chips or in breakfast burritos or on pork or a spoon.

beautiful green countryside

We refused to drive through Wyoming because the view from 80 is painfully boring. Just barren dirt and shrubs. For like SIX HOURS. So we blazed a trail through highway 40, taking us through many small towns but some of the most beautiful views we've seen in a long time. It did add an extra hour or more, so the night before we were leaving to come home, Joel asked, "So would you rather just drive straight through Wyoming?" Visions of endless wasteland came to mind and I just shook my head, "Let's go green." I think we'll have plenty of time to view Wyoming as we drive to California in a couple weeks.

Vernal loves its dinosaurs

And that brings us to what has taken up any spare time I've had between the kids, some freelancing, and all of the above: the Denver Century. I got a road bike last year and I have to say that it's my favorite form of exercise, by far. This year, Joel got a road bike and halfway into his first ride (30 miles), he proclaimed, "This is AWESOME!" So I came home and signed him up, too. This Saturday we will ride 100 miles around Denver. There's one big climb, but we've already done that twice. We feel pretty good about it. I love that Joel will be with me. It's great fun to be whipping along with your husband and feeling like you could do this for the rest of your life. It's also great fun to hear your husband sing your praises after a particularly hard part, or where you've really pushed it. There are a lot of metaphors for life in there, but for now I'll just say I think cycling is incredibly therapeutic on multiple levels.

this is how adorable Marie fell asleep one morning. i love kids.

So offer up a little prayer or whatever for us on Saturday. I burned my hand Saturday night when I accidentally (obviously) grabbed the handle of a pot I had just taken out of the oven. I think it's healing quickly, thanks to the help of a great friend. But still, we're in unchartered territory here. We're excited though. It's going to be awesome.

am i the only one who doesn't like mother's day?

I have come to the annoying realization that I will not be able to enjoy Mother's Day until my children are much older. Ironically, this will probably occur at about the time I wish I could return them to the age they are right now. The thing is that I think I've been setting myself up for disappointment for years. I think, "Just this one day, please don't whine, don't ask me 9 times for the same thing, and be nice to each other." If I just went in with low expectations and those things happened (like every other day), then I don't think it would phase me. But when I've set the bar (too) high, their average is like a slap in the face. Also, it kind of blows that Mother's Day occurs right after my FAVORITE DAY of the year.

A week and a half ago was my birthday and it was the PERFECT birthday. That's what I told Joel as I walked up the stairs that night to go to sleep. "This has been the PERFECT birthday." Joel remarked that it would have been perfect if I hadn't gotten sunburned, but I quickly reassured him that even the sunburn was part of the perfect. The sunburn began about 15 miles into our 42-mile bike ride as we began our ascent of Lookout Mountain. This was about a 6-mile ascent that the pros deem a "class 2" climb. That's steep. As we were pedaling, I knew I didn't have on sunscreen, but I also knew that any airflow I could get would be worth the heat later, so I pulled up my sleeves. On the descent, I missed a turn (you're going to see a pattern, in a minute) so our 42-mile ride turned into 47. By the time we finished, we were starving. But it had been a beautiful ride, all the more appreciated since it had snowed a foot on May 1. Two days later, conditions were perfect. Lots of eating steak and pie and popcorn later. I know this will shock anyone who knows me, but no bacon. It was still perfect.

So there was that PERFECT day. I thought I'd start the weekend out right by dragging Joel up the Deer Creek Canyon Loop (which the pros classify as a "class 1" climb with some "HC" parts. or something). It was "only" 33 miles, but the ascent was the first 12 miles. Woof. Then you get to rolling hills. Wait, did I say rolling hills? I mean some straight ups/downs. You couldn't shift down fast enough, and then I'm starting to freak out because if I can't, then I'm going to end up falling. And then I'd have to unclip. And then there's no clipping back in. At one point Joel muttered, "I'm thinking of all the bad words I want to say right now."But we were fine and we got through it and soon we were sailing downhill and after a few miles that's when I realized that despite Joel's cautionary, "Don't we turn here?" I had just kept going. So we had to turn around and go back UP. If I wasn't so ticked at myself, I would have cried. So 33 miles turned into 36. But it was a great morning and I love having that time with Joel, especially the part where he said, "I can't believe you've done this before. This is insane." Why does that make me feel so good?

And then Mother's Day happened. Which, really, is just the epitome of being a mom. I was thinking about that tough bike ride and how it relates to motherhood. How for the first half of their lives (or more), it's just a steady stream of work. Physical work. Mental, emotional and spiritual work, but lots of actual physical work. Sometimes you feel like you want to say bad words, and maybe you do. But you keep going. And then just as you get to what you think is the summit, you breathe, get a snack, enjoy the beauty around you. And then there are curves and steep ups and downs and you think, "Shouldn't this be EASIER by now??" Some of it is scary when you feel like you're going so fast you might lose control. A lot of it is beautiful. And then maybe you're so taken up with looking at beauty and enjoying some coasting, that you miss something and now you're faced with a bunch more uphill. And maybe some more bad words.

It's hard, at times. And wonderful, at times. But here's the truth: I love it. I even love the steep parts. Well, I might not love when I'm ON the steep parts, but I love looking back and saying, "I just did that. And I didn't die."

There are parts to motherhood right now that are a billion times easier than they were several years ago.   (no diapers! everyone can shower themselves!) And there are some parts that, as the tough stuff transitions from being physically demanding to more mentally/emotionally challenging, are harder than I imagined. Teething is a completely different ballgame than, say, ADHD. Both hard. Both exhausting.

One thing I did give thanks for on Mother's Day: Joel. Just like on our bike ride, he's there with me. Sometimes pulling, sometimes drafting. Always encouraging. Often with comic relief. He's my permanent cycling partner on the literal and figurative route we're on. So I can handle the whining and the arguing and all the stuff that goes along with kids being kids. All too soon this time will pass and maybe I'll wish I could revisit this time. By then I'll be really good at this cycling stuff. And maybe I'll have learned to follow a map.

Well Played, Dr. S.

Imagine. You're back in the dermatologist's office to have a couple moles removed. These spots have been numbed and you're relaxing, eyes closed, in preparation for the extraction (one being on your face). I wasn't concerned, but had the fleeting thought, This music is quite relaxing. Nice touch, doc. That particular instrumental song ended, and a soft jazzy tune started up. And then my eyes flew open and I started giggling.

"I kind of love that this is the song playing right now," I said to the doctor, as he stood over me. He kind of sheepishly grinned and said, "I have like four or five versions of it. (shrugs shoulders) You know."

"I like a doctor with a sense of humor," I reassured him, and then settled back in for the procedure.

The song? Oh yes. It was "I've Got You Under My Skin." Well played, Dr. S. Well played.

Stomp Rockets!

Stomp rockets have got to be one of the best toys out there. Donovan had some a few years ago, but due to time and, well, DONOVAN, let's just say he didn't have them any more. Recently he wistfully noted he wished he had more stomp rockets. Thank you, child, for choosing to make this request 10 days before your birthday when I am wondering what in the heck to get a child who seems to have everything.

The kids had fun propelling them into the atmosphere. Gemma tried once and kind of bounced off the stomp pad (not really sure how that happened) so opted to just run around. Donovan would make a game of stomping as hard as possible and then trying to run and catch it before it hit the street. Mostly, it was just a chorus of laughter out there. On this warm winter day (this was early March), I could believe spring just might happen some day. Except that today, which is actually a spring day, it's snowing. That's about as un-awesome as it gets.

 

This is what it looks like when I go through my phone pictures.

This is what it looks like when good friends give you their son's stash of lacrosse gear and then you snap a picture of your son and suddenly you feel like you have a good idea of what he'll look like in another 10 years:

Donovan came home from the retrieval process (including helmets, pads, gloves, sticks, and goal) and promptly asked me if he could please pick up the dog poop in the back yard so he could practice lacrosse. "What did you say?" I asked. "I said, 'Can I pick up the dog poop...'"

"Let me stop you right there, Dono. You never have to ask me questions like that, along with, say, 'Can I clean my room?' because the answer is always, ALWAYS, going to be yes."

"Well," he added slowly, "Maybe I didn't mean the whole yard...just the part I'm going to practice in." Again, I will never stop you from cleaning up the dog's "little bombs" (in the words of Gru).



This is what it looks like when I take the kids to the pool during spring break and they actually get along and love each other and play nicely and I look like the world's greatest mom because they're angels:

Until we get in the car and Donovan is dumb and Ainsleigh overreacts and Gemma cries because she didn't take a nap and I calm myself with thoughts of nutella banana milkshakes (more on that later).



This is what it looks like when, for the first time in her life, my mom wins at Blokus:

Sure, it was my dad's first time actually playing (but don't be coy, Dad, you totally observed many a battle in Tahoe), but my mom so rarely wins at strategy games (no disrespect, just a fact that it's usually my dad, Laura, or the dark horse Becca) that this was particularly noteworthy. Add to it, our signature family move (as displayed by my mom, accompanied with a deep "BLOKUS!" declaration) when you either block someone or win. Most people won't appreciate this, but my sisters will probably enlarge and frame it.



This is what it looks like when your mom is visiting so you take her on a 34-mile bike ride and she gets a flat at mile 28:

I kind of thought it might be fun to have this teamwork moment together, but really it just consisted of me taking a sip of water and snapping this picture. She had that wheel off and the tube out while I was still rummaging in my bike pouch and asking, "Don't you need a tool to do that?" And she was all, "Don't worry, I'll use my FINGERS." There's something totally awesome about standing there giggling at how freakishly cool your mom is. (thanks to Lisa for letting us borrow her bike and then shredding her tire)



This is what it looks like when your mom and you finish your ride and you're giggling and the dude in a fluorescent green top and bright purple pants about to start his ride:

Nothing else really to say on that, except that I can't actually describe how much I love sharing this hobby with my mom. Sewing is cool, too, don't get me wrong. But this is just a whole lot of fun.



This is what it looks like the day after a huge storm when the sun is out and the part you shoveled off your deck so your dog could get to the grass has totally melted/dried off:

Albus loves to bask in the sun, and this day was no different. He raised his head, looked at me standing there with my phone, then let it drop back onto the deck. He laid there for an hour.



This is what it looks like when you fulfill your daughter's dreams of making robot valentines:

Did I already post it? It's been a while since I mentioned her robot obsession. We're in the midst of planning her robot-cupcake-sprinkle party. Which may or may not involve the pool. But definitely robots.



This is what preschool color day looks like:

I'm not really sure what she's doing in the second picture, but the point is she's wearing a lot of colors. One might even argue she's wearing ALL of the colors. But then that person's husband would probably pull out his pantone flipbook and say, "Well, not really," and then that person would narrow their eyes and call that husband a party pooper.



This is what it looks like when your second grader wants to practice his spelling on the computer:

Or, rather, "speling." When I smirked and pointed at the title, he indignantly replied, "Well! That's not one of my words! It doesn't COUNT!"



This is what it looks like when your 4-year-old emerges from her nap and comes into the kitchen, backlit by the sun:

Bedhead is one of the best things about kids. And Gemma's, with her hair color, is like a halo that just lights up if any direct light comes in contact with it. I hesitate to say she looked like an angel because, let's face it, she's 4 and not inclined to exhibit a lot of angelic qualities. But in a still photo, it's almost believable.

And this is what it looks like when you have a "quiet-time-nap:"

I love that her hand is on the pot and the toys are lined up. I wonder what she was thinking seconds before her eyes closed. I've fallen asleep reading many times (all the times?), so perhaps it isn't very different.

This is what it looks like when I go back through my most recent pictures on my phone. It's a good reminder of little moments I've had through my day that make me grateful for children and modern technology.

Skiing. I think I like it.

three nerds in a gondola

For three years now, Joel has used just about every Saturday from December to April to snowboard. What makes this noteworthy (other than being Coloradoans who do, actually, ski), is that he has almost always taken at least one child, if not both older ones, with him. From the beginning, I took a largely unhelpful stance. I will admit to not being super excited about skiing, knowing full well the day would come when I would be expected to squeeze into those ski boots that could be aptly nicknamed PYTHONS. Plus, it wasn't hard to be unhelpful when I was also ignorant about most of it. The only thing I suggested (which was pretty brilliant, if I do say so myself) was to keep all the boots in a laundry basket with a beach towel folded up at the bottom. This makes putting them in/out of the car easy, and minimizes snow in the trunk.

In the past three years, the kids have gone from not knowing anything about skiing, to black diamonds (moguls, if Donovan has his way). Now that Gemma is old enough to go (and so, therefore, am I), I get to reap the rewards of Joel's hundreds of hours of dedication to family fun. And now it's just begun with Gemma. (We keep meaning to spray paint her helmet pink. Without the tell-tale braids or ponytail, people think she's a boy. She only cares about the lift attendants who call her Jenna.)

words cannot adequately express how much I love Dono wearing his beard beanie,
especially when it gets powder crusted on it. he's a big hit wherever he goes.

Here's a secret: I love that this is Joel's thing. I love that Ainsleigh gets antsy in about September/October, willing it to snow early so ski season can start. I love that I can sit back and look at my kids being awesome and say, "I had nothing to do with this." Is that weird? I guess it's just that I feel like I am so entrenched in their lives (trench - that's a good word, reminiscent of WWI warfare) - and rightly so since it's my JOB - that I appreciate it even more when Joel is solely responsible for something. And let's be clear - this "something" is HUGE.

goofing around on the chairlift

So this year I have actually enjoyed skiing. Joel has been kind enough to give me pointers about what the "cool kids do" and how not to look like a total dork. Don't let that fool you - I have no qualms about making disclaimers to everyone at the top of the terrain park that I'm a MOM and probably shouldn't be doing jumps. I know some women wouldn't like it, but I love it when the teenagers cheer, "Way to go, Mom!" Like I've just adopted 7 kids. One of the best things about going skiing is the french fries. Keystone's french fries are the stuff of dreams. I know this because I've actually dreamed about them.

So here are a few more phone pictures I've come across from this season, and seasons past. Perhaps I can even find some video.

Three different days, same two kids, one awesome dad:

Here's video of Gemma skiing. You can see her come down, like a giant starfish. This is her first real season. She's now looking for the little ways on the side to go off jumps or through trees. The only problem is that she doesn't always have the weight to carry her momentum up over jumps.

And here's some footage of a run with Donovan. It's a little longer, but I'm just astounded at his ability. In this case, astounded means terrified and proud.

Dare I admit I'm sad ski season is over?

Discovery

In the process of putting a few things away in the pantry, I discovered a carton of Trader Joe's dark chocolate covered caramels that I had thought I had finished. But obviously I hadn't.

This is, quite possibly, the best thing that has happened to me in a long time.

(seriously - if you have a TJs and you haven't tried these, get out of here and go buy two cartons. and send one to me. obviously I'll hide it in my house somewhere. and then I'll rediscover it.)

(also, I didn't include in my taco "recipe" that there was shredded cabbage, cheese and avocado in there. but that goes without saying, right?)

Breaking news: corn tortillas are delicious again.

If you have recently become enamored with tacos using corn tortillas and, wanting to replicate such deliciousness in your home, have sought out corn tortillas in the grocery store only to be vexed by their quality, then I have news for you. No longer must I try a new brand or technique. No longer must we take one bite and watch as everything falls onto our plates, calling it "tacos deconstructed" in an effort to make ourselves feel better. No longer must I research where Rubio's gets their corn tortillas, and then consider whether the high shipping rate from the distributor would be worth it (this consideration usually takes place under furrowed brow and over tacos deconstructed). Oh no. NO LONGER!

Have you had the flour tortillas that you cook yourself? I've purchased them at Costco, but word on the streets has it they're available in other fine markets. WELL. The lovely people at TortillaLand have seen fit to create (drumroll) CORN TORTILLAS!

I tried not to jump out of my shoes when I saw them in the refrigerator case at Costco. Very casually, I strolled over. "Act cool, Sarah. Stay CALM," I coached myself (I have to do this a lot in my life). As if I couldn't care less, I opened the glass door and pulled out a bag (of 3 packs of 20!) and then kind of shrugged and put them in my cart. Then I sauntered over to the frozen fish and got some tilapia loins and rounded out the first hatchings of a brilliant plan by plucking a bag of avocados. Genius was at work.

As my sisters (and maybe even you) know full well, nothing gets me more excited than a food find. (wait, have I written about the oil and vinegar place I found? NO?! Travesty. I'll get there.) I love fish tacos. LOVE. I also love making them at home. But, thanks to Easter candy and the upcoming Denver Century (cycling! 100 miles! and I'm getting Joel to do it with me!), I need to do a little better at healthy cooking. So a quick perusal of Pinterest and recipe sites revealed exactly what I was going to make for dinner. All cradled lovingly in the sweet soft goodness of my new best friend, the corn tortilla.

I started by making a little rub to blacken the fish. Honestly, I might not have needed this part. But it took like 27 seconds, so who cares. I found the recipe from a blog that also had a recipe for cliantro lime quinoa - why haven't *I* thought of this?! The rub is simple:

½ Teaspoon of Paprika
¼ Teaspoon of Salt
¼ Teaspoon of Pepper
¼ Teaspoon of Cayenne Pepper
¼ Teaspoon of Onion Powder
¼ Teaspoon of Cumin

With young children, I did less on the cayenne and a little more on the paprika. Also, I doubled it. Then I sprinkled all that on my tilapia loins. Except for one loin, because I ran out. And then I figured it was a good thing because who knows what Donovan and Gemma's opinion would be on the spice. Especially since I was making a sauce.

½ Cup Greek Yogurt
2 Tablespoons lime juice
2 Tablespoons (but it might have been more like 4) chopped cilantro
½ Teaspoon ground chipotle peppers (this is a guess - I just sprinkled some in)

Let that sit there. This is another time when I pat myself on the back for having a giant bag of lime juice ice cubes in my freezer. And ground chipotle peppers. A little goes a long way. Our sinuses are now clear.

Then make the cilantro-lime quinoa from the above blog (spoiler: make your quinoa in chicken broth, then stir in a tablespoon of lime juice and some chopped cilantro. also some salt and peper. the end.).

Oh wait - I did cook the fish. Since we were having a "blizzard" (and by that I mean, everyone said we'd have a blizzard but really it was just freakishly cold and snowed a little and blew a lot and they cancelled school and we just played and played and ate fish tacos), I opted to broil the fish. 5 minutes a side. Flake it a little so it fits pleasingly on the tortilla.

The tortillas cook in about 45 seconds and they are GOOD. No cracking, no falling apart, and so FLAVORFUL. I left one in the pan a little longer than recommended, but you know what? It was kind of crunchy. Like a tostada, but with NO FRYING.

In closing, do yourself a favor and go buy those tortillas. They are, quite possibly, the best find I've made in a long time. Except for the oil and vinegar store. I'm like the Meriwether Lewis of food.

Lullabies, of the gristle-y kind.

Last night, as I sat on the couch with Donovan cuddling up under one arm and Gemma under the other (Ainsleigh was finishing her dinner), I began singing a song my Aunt Nancy taught me a long time ago:

My father killed a kangaroo,
Gave me the gristle-y part to chew.
Wasn't that a terrible thing to do,
To give me to chew the gristle-y part of a kangaroo.

Midway through the song, Donovan (who must not have recalled me singing this tender lullaby to him in the past), began asking, "Mom? What are you singing?" and "Mom! What IS this song?!" By the time I concluded, he had peeled himself away in a fit of giggles, and was now pounding the ottoman with his fist, eyes squeezed tight shut against the hysterical laughter that shook his body.

I shrugged. "It's a song Aunt Nancy learned when she was young - second grade or something. I'm not sure why they taught that kind of song. It's horrible sounding, but also hilarious."

Ainsleigh wanted to know if there were more verses. Thank you, Mistress Google, for procuring the answer. Verses two and three:

My father killed a parakeet,
Gave me the teeniest feet to eat.
Wasn't that a terrible feat to beat,
To give me to eat the teeniest feet of a parakeet.

My father killed a grizzly bear,
Gave me the hairiest part to wear.
Wasn't that a terrible fare to bear,
To give me to wear the hairiest part of a grizzly bear.

So there you go, family members. All others, unfortunate enough to not be raised with such culture, I couldn't quite tell you what the tune is, but if you come over or call me, I'll be happy to sing it for you. But only if Donovan is in the room because the way he laughs with his whole body is one of the top five things I love most about this kid.

when bacon is your back-up plan, you know you're doing ok

Saturday night, after the birthday cake was baked and the presents were wrapped and the bedroom surprise was complete, I stopped cold. Oh no. Do we have sausage? Ainsleigh had asked for pancakes and sausage for her birthday breakfast in the morning and here we were, concluding our midnight decorating escapades and I began to worry that I didn't have her preferred pork product. As I voiced my concern to Joel, I followed it with, "Well I know we have bacon, so that can be our back-up plan." Joel very slowly shook his head at me, "If that's our back-up plan, then I think we've got a great plan."

This year, for Ainsleigh's bedroom decoration, we crept into her room and strung crepe paper streamers from headboard to footboard. For anyone considering these kinds of shenanigans, let me impress upon your mind just how crazy loud everything is in the middle of the night. Streamers are VERY LOUD. And this makes for a lot of GIGGLING. Which is also VERY LOUD. Luckily, Ainsleigh sleeps like a rock. We were a little concerned that she might wake up and freak out that she was in a spider web, but considering we put snakes in Donovan's room this year, I guess we're going for the freaky.

Par for the course, she loved it. And we not only had bacon, but we also had sausage. In the morning, I said to Ainsleigh, "Would you like pancakes and sausage, or... pancakes, sausage AND bacon?" She semi-pursed her lips while squinting at me through appreciative eyes before pointing a single finger-gun at me and saying, "Mom, I like the way you're thinking. I'll take all three."

For her birthday, among other things, she got "Just Dance 4," a video game that promotes family bonding and endless entertainment, mostly at the other performer's lack of coordination. In years past, whether it was MarioKart or Super Mario Bros. or just about anything else (except maybe bowling), Donovan quickly surpassed Ainsleigh. She has always been a great sport, though, either opting out of playing or at least laughing at herself. This is one of her best qualities, by the way. I didn't realize just how GOOD Ainsleigh would be at Just Dance. I won twice, but she blew everyone else out of the water (myself included, at times). And what was hilarious was that as soon as was declared the winner, she'd give a very aggressive, "Yes! I owned that!" Which is so opposite her usual c'est la vie attitude.

I was happy for her, though, and how she declared, "Finally! A game I'm GOOD at!" This seems to be how life is going for her right now. We recently had parent-teacher conferences, and Joel and I were thrilled with how she is doing. She is your average, or slightly above-average fifth-grader. I don't think you can fully appreciate "average" until you've been told your child is below-average, or needing an intervention. It has taken a couple years of trying things and laughing at ourselves and then also trying not to cry (too much). But here we've found our niche and I feel like we can say, "Yes! I owned that!"

Her teacher laughed at how she continually surprises him. "Sometimes I'm sure she's not listening, so I'll say, 'Hey Ainsleigh, are you with me?' and then she'll totally regurgitate everything we've just talked about." I had to laugh with him. That's so totally her. It looks like she's zoning out (and, maybe she is -- maybe that's how she works), but really she's absorbing.

This first baby of mine has consistently thought outside the box. She is more of a curves and swirls and accessories and secret nooks kind of girl. She has made ME have to think outside the box. This has not been comfortable for me. I love straight lines and clear borders and obvious boundaries. Because of her, I have had to look at learning and parenting from a different angle. But in the process, I've seen things I never would have. I've seen those curves and secret nooks that mainstream schooling doesn't recognize.

We're beginning to stretch into the world of hormones, I think. I casually gave her a sports bra to go under tank tops for our rec center workouts. I mentioned I could get her some white ones to go under shirts if she wanted (she quickly shook her head, despite me seeing the telltale blue peeking out of her neckline, indicating she wasn't wearing it just for workouts). I may just put some in her dresser for her to test out. While I'm not going to push her to grow up, I'm not afraid of her getting older. She has always done things on her timeline in her way and I look forward to what other things I will experience because of her.

For instance, she requested rack of lamb for her birthday dinner (and it was Easter - how appropriate!). And garlic mashed potatoes and roasted brussels sprouts. And for dessert, a banana coconut cake. I found one with a chocolate whipped cream frosting topped with a dark chocolate ganache. These are things I wouldn't have thought to do, were it not for a girl who looked at that figurative box, shrugged, and then turned her back on it in favor of the world around her. It was one of the best meals and cakes I have ever eaten. I love this girl so much that sometimes it physically hurts. I can't believe it's already been 11 years.

Now I need to go perfect my dance moves before she gets home...