Apparently, Year Fourteen is the Year of the Fajita

Recently, Mike and I celebrated our fourteenth wedding anniversary. We often joke that we are romantic by doing the most unromantic things. For example, he unloads the dishwasher for me, and I often clean Banjo’s poop off the lawn in the backyard. While these seem like very unromantic gestures, the “romance” lies in that we find ways to show our love by making our partner’s life easier. We don’t just show our love by huge efforts a few times year; instead, we find smaller ways to show our affection throughout the year.
The night before our anniversary, Mike and I sat on our backyard swing.
“We’re not buying cards tomorrow, right?” he asked me as Banjo tried to convince us to throw a tennis ball for him.
“I’m not buying shit,” I assured him.
Because Mike’s company just switched to working four ten-hour days to allow employees to take three-day weekends, we decided to go to a local eatery for a quick dinner instead of our usual drive to the Ocean Mist, a restaurant almost an hour away from our house.
On the morning of our anniversary, our favorite local brewery announced the release of a new beer, appropriately titled “Make This Romance Last.” I had to pick this up!
At the brewery, I told the clerk why I was so excited for this beer. When he offered to enter our phone number for their rewards program, he offered to enter the purchase in a few hours.
“It’ll send your husband a text letting him know he earned points.”
I offered to skip the points, explaining that the “What the f**k, I thought we weren’t doing anything” dance was best enjoyed in person rather than over the phone.

Fourteen years of marriage requires the fanciest of celebrations (and complementary chips and salsa)! — We were babies when we went to a Paw Sox game for Mike’s 27th birthday!

That afternoon, Michael had his first Chili’s experience. We don’t often eat out, and when we do, we rarely go to chains, choosing instead to support local businesses. Somehow, Chilli’s chicken fingers had come up in conversation. On our way home from his baseball camp, we passed a Chilis. Being starving, Michael worked his magic. “You know, Mom, you did say that Chili’s has the best chicken fingers.” Being ravenous myself, I turned into the parking lot.
Chili’s is like a time capsule. While the mosaic-tiled tables I remembered were replaced by chairs with a chili cut out of the back, Chili’s hadn’t changed. Our hostess seated us in the bar area behind a very dusty display area. She asked us about the rewards program. Since I don’t think I had visited a Chili’s since Mike and I were dating, she had to walk me through signing up so we could receive free chips and salsa.
The menu had barely changed. Michael ordered a combo that included ribs and the infamous chicken fingers. Though he admitted that the ribs were not as good as the ones Mike made, the chicken fingers lived up to the hype. “You don’t even need ketchup.”
That night, we drove to the lovely little eatery near our house. Michael talked insistently about Chili’s. “The chicken fingers were so good… And, if you’re a member, the chips and salsa are free… Have you ever had the fajitas, Dad? We should go to Chilis. When was the last time you went to Chili’s, Dad?”
Finally, thoughts of chips, salsa, and fajitas won. We drove to the other side of the city to go to Chili’s… on our anniversary.
Our waiter, Nate, humored Michael as he requested chips and salsa, explaining, “We’re members here,” with pride usually reserved for professional all-star athletes and Mensa members. Nate graciously humored him with the “members only” chips as Michael proceeded to order the same meal he had for lunch. “Happy anniversary,” Mike and I said to each other too many times while we hovered warms chips and enjoyed draft beers.
On our way out, I insisted we snap a picture. We tried several times as we kept moving to allow cars to drive through. “It’s our anniversary!” I exclaimed to a passing minivan, whose driver waved and gave us a thumbs up.
I have to admit that Chili’s was as good as it was in the 90s. Michael loved the attention that came when Nate brought Mike his sizzling fajitas. On the way home, I showed him the video of Cody Rigsby’s pep talk involving Chili’s fajitas. “I’m going to watch this every single morning,” he promised.
While the local restaurant offers food similar to Chili’s, our priority is to support the local businesses benefiting our neighbors, sponsoring local baseball teams, and driving the local economy.
And here’s my takeaway about a wedding anniversary spent eating warm chips and salsa at Chili’s: I cannot think of a better way to celebrate fourteen years of marriage with Mike. We don’t prove our love through big gestures. Rather, we show our love via quick texts throughout the day, emptying the dishwasher because our partner hates to do it, and all of the little gestures that indicate we love each other enough to work as a team and want to make life kinder and more enjoyable for our partner and our child.

Broken Bones and Silver Linings

I have always been someone who tries to find the positive in situations. But it was hard to find the silver lining when Michael broke his foot and learned he would be off his foot for eight weeks.

“Why would this happen to me? Why am I being punished so long for one stupid decision?”
Not having an answer was brutal. Michael has questioned his faith, particularly regarding the church’s positions on homosexuality and divorce. Eight plus weeks of punishment for a split-second decision is a lot to process, especially when that split-second occurs two days before baseball tryouts.
Michael has done all the work to recover, mostly without being reminded. He’s done his stretching exercises, practiced pitching and hitting, worn his calf protector, and learned to use the TENS machine. He’s tracked his progress and pain on a graphic organizer I created and shared for him, making more meticulous notes than his orthopedic doctor requested. After she suggested barefoot running to awaken the tendons and muscles that have lay quiet while he was in a cast, he runs up and down our long driveway a few times a day. He wants to improve and is doing the work to get where he needs to be.
After tracking his progress for two weeks, he convinced his doctor to let him return to baseball early, with the promise to continue to follow his pain. His coaches put him on first base, where he could (mostly) stay in one place and not have players sliding into him. He preferred outfield but knew he could not chase line drives with his injury and, just happy to be playing, took the base. Little did we know then, but he would find his home. He excels at first base!
So as we try to find the positive in this challenging experience, this injury has led Michael to his calling. While we wish he had never broken his foot, his broken foot took him to a place where he shines. He’s learned critical lessons about perseverance and strength. He’s learned the importance of managing frustration. He’s also learned that people will try their best to support people when they see that he needs help. As a result of his hard work, he reached his goal of making an aau team.

Jingles and Signs

I admitted that these past few weeks have been challenging in terms of emotional well-being. Six weeks sitting on my butt is not helpful to someone who stays busy to keep mind and body from getting bored.

If you’re not following Awesomely Luuvie on social media, you need to stop everything and do so right now. She frequently discusses mental health. Her quote about keeping busy as an avoidance technique resonates with me. She understands why I feel like I cannot just sit, which is what I’ve done for the past six weeks.

I have been trying to keep my mind as occupied as possible, reading books and watching so much television. This week, I had the meltdown that has been brewing. While I’ve been watching mindless movies, The Starling came through after a rom-com finished. I got sucked in, resulting in sobs. Between these sobs, I realized that I had not yet received the sign from my mom I usually get whenever I’m having a rough time. This made me feel even more alone.

When Michael came home from school, he was doing something he never does. He was singing commercial jingles. All afternoon, he sang the jingles to Nestle Crunch and a few other products. When Mike asked him why he was doing it, Michael explained that he “just felt like it.” It hit me that my mom used to do this all the time. She’d often do so in public, which embarrassed me to no end. I called my sister, who agreed, “I can hear her saying ‘you wanted a sign. Here’s your sign, asshole.'”

I went to bed assuming that I had my small, passive-aggressive sign that my mom was not going to make me sit on the couch recovering for eight weeks by myself. The following morning, while scrolling Facebook, I noticed something in the background of a post by a local consignment shop. It was a ceramic Christmas tree like the one my mom had when I was growing up. I’ve looked for one for years, able to find one similar, but not exactly like the one of my youth. I immediately called the story, gushing about how much finding this means to me. The owner listened, explaining that she enjoyed this part of the job, and she would put the tree aside until my husband could pick it up that evening. When I called Mike to tell him, he offered to pick it up at lunch.

Eleven years after losing my mom, it does not get easier. I wonder what her relationship with Michael would be like. When I was pregnant, I called her every afternoon to update what he had been doing in my tummy during the day. When he was an infant, she would be perfectly content staying on the phone listening to Michael drink his bottles. Eleven years later, wondering remains between reminders that she will look out for me when I need her.

Yes, Son, Others Do Have it Much Worse, But You Can Mourn Your Summer (a Little Bit)

Dear Liam,

It is the first full week of summer, which is usually filled with all sorts of excitement and possibility. Boundless possibilities and talk of adventure often fill this week, discussion of new places to visit and promises to improve our running and maybe plant some vegetables. This year is so different.

Distance Learning was challenging, but it may have been one of the best things for you. While I jokingly call you Old Man Liam, distance learning afforded you opportunities to become much more independent and self-reliant. You had to check in to Google Classroom each morning, making a list of assignments before joining three Google Hangouts. You learned how to cook a bunch of meals, informing me at the end of some days that you made your own breakfast, lunch and dinner. You learned that you had to ask for help and find answers when things were confusing, relying on teacher emails and Google Hangout office hours, group class chats, and even YouTube for clarification.

While you were doing this, I was in the midst of my own distance learning experience. While parents applauded me, I realized how easy I had it, spending my days wearing sweats and talking to kids about The Outsiders, relating the problems of Johnny and PonyBoy to current events in attempts to make sense of both COVID and civil unrest affecting our country. I had it much more comfortable than most.

Although you excelled at distance learning, you also counted down to the last day of school. An hour after school ended, your eyes filled with tears. “This isn’t how I wanted my year to end! I love my teacher and I wish I had more time with her. It isn’t fair.” You wanted the hugs and high fives that usually accompany the last day of school.

We did this in our house that is small yet big enough to take breaks from each other. Sometimes, we did our distance learning in our backyard, enjoying the sunshine and warm spring air. Banjo thought this was the greatest thing to ever happen to him- his people were home all day!

Two days later, I suggested driving to Newport and walking the Cliff Walk. You asked if we could instead walk Thames Street and downtown. It was the first time we had to wear our masks for any length of time, which was horrible and leaves me so concerned for the fall when I will wear one all day at school. We bought cookies, watched the water, and browsed the stores a bit. It was time to go home, and as we drove over the Newport Bridge, talking about the time we ran over it and wondering if life will be normal enough to do so this October, you burst into tears, the feelings you had been suppressing coming up and out.

Too many times during this breakdown, I heard you apologize. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry. I know that other people have it so much worse than we do.” We talked about summer, how it usually means endless possibilities and new adventures. “But this summer will be different. I’m tired of walks and bike rides. And hikes are nothing more than walks in the woods.” (Dammit, you figured that out!)

During this past month, we’ve had other stuff going on. Banjo got hurt and required two surgeries. While we tried not to talk about it within your earshot, we whispered about how much pet insurance would cover and where that left us. You toured the new school you’ll be attending in the fall because your school eliminated morning care. You helped me honor my mom on the tenth anniversary of her passing, making you realize that you do not know this woman everyone says loved you so much. We’ve somehow managed to fit years of terrible events into a very short amount of time. And while you are the kindest, most compassionate kid I have ever met, you have not had to experience any real trauma, so this is new to you.

So here’s what you need to know:

It is okay to be sad about the summer. You’re right- it won’t be as much fun as it usually is for us.

You are learning about social justice, reading New Kid and They Called Us Enemy and learning about Pride and Black Lives Matter. We are teaching you that the world you have experienced is not the same world everyone experiences. You have been so open to learning about injustice, and discussing what we can do to be a part of the solution, which is a lot of new information. While it is tough to hear, you need to learn things that other mothers do have the luxury of deciding when and what life lessons they teach their children.

So while we keep teaching you that other people are affected by COVID by a much higher extent than you are, you are still allowed to be sad. We can play in our yard with our friends, take Banjo for walks, and feel safe and without fear of paying bills on time. We will not visit the Baseball Hall of Fame as we talked about after watching A League of Their Own. Nor will we take the train to New York City, visit the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, or sing “Sweet Caroline” at Fenway. But we will read books and go for bike rides. We not take random trips to the zoo, but we will eat ice cream and Del’s lemonade. You and Dad will relearn how to play Magic the Gathering. We are going to master making friendship bracelets. We will complete socially distanced November Project workouts stay active at home.

It may not be the summer we usually have, but I promise it to be great as it safely and possibly can be, and we will count our blessings.

Eight was a Magic Number

When I was pregnant, someone told me that every age would be my favorite. Once I survived the infant stage, I have to say this person was correct. (I did not love having a baby. Every time someone told me, “Enjoy every moment; you’ll miss this when they’re old,” I felt like a terrible mother. I didn’t love every moment of having a baby; it was difficult and lonely.

I loved four, five, six, and seven. Eight was my favorite. There are many reasons I wish I could stop time and keep Liam eight forever. These are the strongest reasons I love having an eight-year-old:

Liam laughing hysterically the first time he read one of Willy Wonka’s Oompa-Loompa songs

He can express his feelings. He can tell me what’s wrong and whether he wants an apple or a yogurt. During our twice daily walks with Banjo, he tells me about his days, things he does with his friends at school, how he feels about his teachers, and asks questions about just about anything. He is getting really good at keeping a conversation going, which is a skill I know will take him far in life.

He can do things on his own. He gets his clothes ready and gets himself dressed. He can make an English muffin, pancakes, or a PB&J. He showers completely on his own and brushes his own teeth. The fact that he is more independent is a huge help, especially in the morning. Last week, he cooked the family French toast for breakfast. He even set and cleared the table! I love seeing how proud he is of himself when he is able to do things on his own.

He has a good heart. I hope this one doesn’t change. Liam loves knowing that others are okay and takes care of people. If a classmate is out of school, he wants to know they’re okay. When his godmother gave him money for Christmas, the only thing he wanted to do with it was to donate it to the Food Bank. He realizes he is fortunate in a lot of ways and wants to help those who aren’t as lucky.

When we went to New York City, we climbed the crown of the Statue of Liberty and saw The Lion King on Broadway. Liam’s favorite part of the trip? Feeding pigeons in Battery Park.

He believes the world is good. I know this will falter at times, but he still believes that everyone is a friend who deserves a chance. He assumes best intentions in everyone he meets.

His problems are still pretty easy to fix. He’s really good about telling us things that are going on in his life. Most of his worries and concerns are pretty easy to address. When something is bothering him, we can usually talk through it in a short amount of time. I know that, as he gets older, his worries will not be so easily squished.

Yesterday, Liam turned nine. As we let him plan his day, we started at IHOP. In the parking lot, he began to cry because he did not want to turn nine. I hope that he is always so happy with his life that he doesn’t want anything to change.

How Mayim Bialik Made Me Cry

While I was upstairs getting dressed, I took a moment to myself to mindlessly scroll Facebook. Liam was downstairs playing and I thought I had a few minutes. Mayim Bialik’s site, Grok Nation, featured a video of her explaining her expectation versus reality regarding how many children she would have. When she was younger, she imagined giving birth to enough children to create her own football team. Once she had two sons, she realized that was what she could handle. As Mayim spoke, she was on the verge of tears as she explained that, even though she knew it was the right choice for her, she needed to mourn the future she originally planned for herself.

Her honesty and her confession made me think of my own plan for having children. When I was younger, I always imagined having two children. It just seemed like the thing to do. I have a sister and (usually) enjoyed having someone to play with and to understand when different things were happening in our lives. She helped me through various times when my mother was sick. When it came to planning my future, I never thought about anything other than having two children.

Fast forward to adulthood. I met Mike, who was adamant that he only wanted one child. We agreed to discuss it again after becoming parents. The months after Liam was born were some of the most difficult of our lives. At four weeks old, we flew Liam to Florida to meet and say goodbye to my mother, who held on long enough to meet her grandson. Two weeks later, we drove to Maine to say goodbye to Mike’s grandmother. We came home to two feet of water in our basement. Our friends all but abandoned us after Liam was born. Liam suffered from terrible colic, eventually taking baby Pepcid to relieve the symptoms. The first few months after Liam was born were some of the most rewarding yet difficult months of my life.

When Liam was almost a year old, we revisited the topic of more children. When he was a year old, we decided we were happy as a family of three.

There are many reasons for this. Some are quite responsible and others are strictly personal:

I was thirty-three when I had Liam. Having more children at a later age increases the chance of complications for both myself and future babies,

Mike’s job relies on contracts; long-term work is not guaranteed. We do not want to have more children than we can comfortably afford.

Having one child allows me to better balance what I call the “triangle of sanity,” or the management of career, marriage, and motherhood.

Having one child makes it easier for both Mike and I to pursue our interests, partly by having the money to pursue hobbies but also because, when I go for a run or yoga, I am only leaving Mike with one child. When I go for a run after school, I am only paying for one child to attend after-school care. Did I choose to have one child so I can run and practice yoga? No. But having the time and energy to follow those pursuits centers me, making me a better mother, wife, and teacher.

Having one child gives Mike and I more time for each other. More important than the weeks at the beach house, toys, or adventures, Mike and I give Liam two calm parents who have time available for him each day.

Having one child allows me to train for a half marathon, attend yoga twice a week, and enter thirty-seven books into my Goodreads account this year.

This is not an insult or disrespect against anyone with more than one child. I applaud your time and money management skills. I watch you balance sports practices, birthday parties, and overall needs of multiple children with admiration and respect.

I watched Mayim explain that, while she was content in her decision to stop having more children, she also needed to mourn her original plan. That line summed up how I feel. There are times I wholeheartedly wish we had more than one child, simply because that was the original plan. However, I know that I am meant to be the mama of one child. As I watched, I began to tear up, relieved that someone else understands how I feel. Before the video finished, I heard my bedroom door open. My first impulse was to sigh, slightly frustrated that I cannot get five minutes alone to get dressed.

“What’s up, Bug?” I asked.

“I just needed to know where my mama is. I love you.”

He Gets It!

This summer, Liam has been joining me on my workouts with the Beginner’s Running Group and November Project. He quickly fell in love with the social aspect of both groups. He’s the first to dish out encouraging words and high-fives. Of course, he loves receiving encouragement as well.

Last week, we headed to Lippitt Park for BRG after spending the weekend on the Cape. Liam played hard all weekend, tubing, swimming, and catching turtles. He was already tired, but I reminded him we committed to attending BRG. It was also ridiculously hot. After a quick warm up, we hit the Boulevard for intervals. I made sure our pace was barely above a jog and took Nuun with us. He found his mantra an repeated it, “There’s no need to lead… There’s no need to lead… There’s no need to lead.”

A few minutes into our run, our friends Kerri and Kristin caught up with us. After explaining they had already gone for a run, they admitted they were walking to their cars but, upon seeing Liam, knew they couldn’t leave him. We made it through the run, even when Liam wanted to give up. Kristin challenged Liam to a race to the finish line, which he gladly accepted.

That night, Liam was getting ready for his shower.

“You know, quitting is a lot harder when your friends are there. If our friends didn’t show up, this kid would have been out of there.”

At that moment, I knew Liam got what this is all about. It’s not about leading the pack. It’s about trying your best and not giving up. It’s about doing things you didn’t think you could accomplish. Most of all, running with a group is about supporting each other. There have been times that I was not at all feeling my run. I ran anyway because my friends were waiting for me. There are times I pushed myself to run farther and faster than I thought I had in me at the time because my friends were by my side. I’d like to think there might have been times when my friends weren’t completely ready or into their run but were able to get through it because I was by their side. Running and working out are about so much more than the actual activity.

Pinterest Princess or Bust?

This sums up my life:

I hate to bake. I hate crafts. Basically, I hate any activity that involves closely following directions. When Mike and I first moved in together, he was amazed at my inability to put together IKEA furniture.

Fast forward thirteen years. We have an incredible eight-year-old boy, one we intentionally tried to have in February to time my maternity leave, allowing me to stay home for seven months. Each February since, we curse ourselves as we try to plan his birthday party. We usually have his party at various indoor facilities throughout the state. Last year his party was at McCoy Stadium. While his parties have always been fun, Liam wanted an outdoor party so we didn’t have to worry about time or how many kids he could invite. We decided to celebrate his eight and a half birthday over the summer. When he asked if he could have a Harry Potter themes party, I jumped at the chance to let him have a party in a theme I really liked (as opposed to last year’s love of Minecraft). Liam and I have been reading the illustrated books together. I love that he loves them. (I’ve stated earlier that I sometimes feel guilty for not sharing his enthusiasm for things he loves, such as Star Wars, Minecraft, and Pokemon.)

I told him that this would only work if he helped me, which he happily obliged. We set off on Pinterest. He started off having much more faith in our abilities that I even had, wanting to make Hogwarts letters to send out to friends.

“We can put wax on them and send them to everyone.”

“I already sent out a Facebook invitation.”

Liam really wanted to give his friends wands. We had recently visited Wynotts Wands in Salem, where Liam chose his wand. He understood that we could not afford to buy each kid a wand. The bulk ones online were either too cheap or too expensive. Pinterest shared a tutorial for making wands that actually seemed reasonable. We ordered chopsticks, hot glue gunned the ends, then painted them. Liam was happy to help, and the finished products were pretty cool!

We also made golden snitches and chocolate frogs. Liam began asking me to make the chocolate frogs on Monday. Knowing I could not be trusted with that much chocolate in the house, we needed to wait until Friday.

We made a Quidditch court. Mike was happy to act as our Quidditch coach. The kids had a ball playing.

I set up a table for “potion class” containing small cauldrons of baking soda and vinegar. They were about to mix the ingredients in their cauldrons and watch the reaction. Liam used to love doing this trick, but I feared that they would think it was silly or childish. Potion class was a hit!

After potion class was wand class, in which the students needed to keep their balloons in the air.

My only real goof-up involved the cake. I assumed I could order a cake from Stop and Shop a week before the party. I was wrong; they no longer carry the cake kit. Walmart does not have Harry Potter cakes, either. After Googling “easy Harry Potter cakes” for a while, I decided to order cupcakes from Stop and Shop and cake decorations from Amazon. It worked out just fine.

After a week of making golden snitches, wands, and Quidditch courts, Mike began calling me his “Pinterest Princess.” While I don’t see myself doing this again, the process wasn’t terrible. I love Liam’s ownership in the planning. I didn’t mind doing the projects with him. I’m also painfully aware that the number of years remaining of planning birthday parties and Liam wanting to spend all of his time with Mike and I are dwindling. I need to make the most of it while I can.

Summer Running Buddy

By the end of the school year, I created a pretty good routine to make sure I was ready for my first half marathon. I would come home, change, and take Banjo with me on a short run, picking Liam up from school and walking home together. Now that we are both out of school, I pondered how to get in my runs as I begin training for my second half. When a friend asked if Liam and I would be interested in training for a 5K in the fall, it seemed like a perfect reason to introduce Liam to running. He is excited to run with his friend.

Proof that Liam is my kid: he insisted on packing a snack for the run.

When we decided that we would begin running with the dog in the morning, Liam had many of the same fears I did when I began running. He questioned his ability, could he run far and fast enough? We set out with a goal of running one mile. I asked what a good time would be to run. His reply: “3:28 in the morning.” We agreed that a fourteen-minute mile seems a reasonable first goal. We set a few norms to keep either of us from getting frustrated or discouraged:

Liam decided the course.

We run no more than a mile.

Walk when you need to walk.

We set out, walking a block before beginning to run. Liam took off, which I knew wouldn’t last but let him play it through. After a few minutes, he was tired. I set the one-minute interval on my app that I usually use for speed training. He did fine with this, then decided to use landmarks as goals. “We can run to the main road, then walk to the next street, and run again.” It was a perfect setup! When we were close to the one-mile mark, I noticed our pace was 13:35; I decided to push a little further so we could finish at 13:30.

We walked the rest of the way home. Liam was great about celebrating what he accomplished. When he started putting himself down, I reminded him that it took months before I could run a mile. “Now you can run thirteen.”

“Yup, I can. And it took me over a year of running to be able to do that.”

I am beyond thankful that Liam is interested in running. I hope it becomes something we can enjoy together. Much like our daily walks with Banjo, I appreciate the opportunity to connect with Liam and talk about life. I only have a few summers left in which he will want to spend most of his time with me; I need to enjoy them while they’re here!

Week Seven: List the Greatest Compliments and Encouragement You Have Ever Been Given

I am a firm believer in compliments. I compliment my students, my family, and my friends as often as possible. I think about compliments that have truly affected me and encouraged me to continue working towards my goals.

You’re a good mom. A significant portion of parenting involves worrying.

“Am I too hard on Liam? Are my expectations too high?”

“Am I being too soft? Am I letting him get away with too much?”

“Am I reading to him enough?

“Am I playing enough games with him?”

“Is it okay that he is the only kid he knows without a video game system? Should I just suck it up and buy him one?”

With all of these daily worries, it was a huge confidence booster when my mother-in-law randomly told me I am a good mom.

My “running bully” congratulating me for beating my goal time at our first half!

You are stronger than you think you are. My “running bully” gets the credit for this one. I lovingly refer to my friend Kerri as my “running bully” because she pushes me when I question myself, causing me to PR at the ever-difficult Gaspee 5K and beat my goal time by fifteen minutes at our first half-marathon. I love my running group because we focus on getting out there and getting stronger over being the fastest. That being said, having someone out there pushing you out of your comfort zone is never a bad thing!

I’m so glad you’re my mama. Liam and I have a really good ability to bounce off of each other. We can make up games on the fly, without stopping to decide rules or goals. Mike and I each have activities that are “our things” with Liam. Liam and I go for bike rides, read books, sing Hamilton, and tell each other silly jokes. Every so often, Liam wraps his arms around me and tells me, “I’m so glad you’re my mama.” It melts my heart.