Skip to main content

Pretty In Pink for Komen

Watching my two year old run around this lap with such joy on her face made me tear up. I thought of my Grandma a lot as we rounded the corners and people were cheering the kids on. She battled breast cancer twice and the second round did her in. She didn't want to fight anymore. She missed Grandpa, her brother, sister and son. She was ready to go. I wish my Grandma could have known my daughter. I hear tell she's just like me when I was a kid which frankly scares the shit out of me. I was nothing like this. Nothing. I'll find a way to prove it. Hearing the crows cheer the kids on gave us goosebumps. I didn't expect this emotional tidal wave to overtake me and yet there I was, bawling like a baby at times.

The next day, Mother's Day, Peanut, my SIL Fluffy and I headed back out to the MOA for the 5k walk. We saw so many signs that people made for their loved ones. One lady was walking for her dad. We cried a lot that day. After the walk, they had an event for the survivors inside. I can't tell you how inspiring it was to look down and see them.

What a great day and what a great Mother's Day tradition.


Popular posts from this blog

One Of These Things Is Not Like The Other

When was the first time that you realized that your home was not like other people’s homes? 

My house has always been different from other houses. I don't think I could narrow it down to a particular time. I recall not having friends stay over. Ever. I always stayed at all my friends' houses and called their moms "Mom".

Not a lot of my friends were only children so to them, I was the odd duck. Believe me, I *was* the odd duck. Just for a myriad of other reasons.

Having a family of my own, I really see the differences in houses. We are more relaxed with some things that would not fly in other houses. It gets loud in our house. Extremely loud. If I stopped them from being loud all the time, I wouldn't get a single thing done. I tend to jump in right away when the kids are arguing because it can, and will, quickly snowball into WWIII and someone (or both) will be crying. We let our son play the Wii, computer or DS for far longer than other parents or even the "…


Please do not ask me to email photos out, I get entirely too many requests for them. These are the ones that I have at home, thanks to a couple of sources.

This Has To Be Said

I haven't blogged in 8 months. We bought a house, still unpacking, school started. You know, life. I felt the need, the urgent need to blog about the Adrian Peterson situation today. I am full of all sorts of feelings and had to write about it. I would love to hear your thoughts on this whole thing. No really, I would. I don't feel I was a douchebag in my writing so all I ask is you not be a douchebag in your response. Thanks.

My thoughts on the Adrian Peterson situation (but first, some backstory):
I was spanked as a child. I'm pretty sure most of us that grew up in the 80s were.Until the summer between 5th and 6th grade I lived in Charelston, SC and from 6th to 11th grade, North Chicaco, IL. I have seen every form of discipline doled out on a child. I've seen spankings, beatings, hairbrushes smacked into heads, spoons hitting the tops of heads, whips, belts and even switches. I've seen it all.Most of you know that my son is named after a little boy who died from c…